Good Samaritan
by The-Cursed-Daughter
Summary: Silas gets a second chance at life and more than he bargained for in the process. Silas/OC
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, hi! I'm Kit!_

And I'm Violet!

_This is the Silas/OC that I've been writing for a while, and Vi convinced me to post it!_

You might recognize us from our Hellboy fics or from Angels & Demons stuff we've posted lately.

_A good load of this is already written, and it might seem slow at first, but then it really speeds up!_

Please review!

_**Warnings: The usual, which generally means swearing**_

_**Disclaimers: We own nothing but the plot and Saige...and various other OC's that pop in and out.**_

_(9/9/11)_

_(Hello, new and old readers. It's been a long while, and I'm sure you all hate us by now. But real life was not exactly a stroll in the park and now we're back. We'll be rewriting most of our stories, and this is one of them. I know it might be a bit weird to read the new and the old chapters together, but we'll try to update weekly. Maybe another two or three months and I promise we'll see this story to a good end.)_

_(Kit)_

* * *

_Run._

Silas skirted a corner, shoving through passerby and darting across the street.

_You killed the Bishop. You killed the man that saved you.__ You killed the only man that ever cared._

The hood of a car caught him the side and he was thrown to the ground. Scrabbling upright, a church looming over the other buildings caught his eye. He lurched toward it, wincing as his shoulder screamed in pain, but quickly backed away as a policeman stepped out from the shadow of the alley, shouting for him to stop. Silas turned and ran back across the street; people shouting in protest as cars barely missed him.

Disoriented, the monk hurried toward a gate that opened out onto the sidewalk, rushing through them and into the safety of the trees. Risking a glance behind him, the monk confirmed that no one was following, and slowed—just in time for his sandal to catch in the dirt and sending him crashing to the ground.

* * *

Saige sprinted through the park gates, angry shouts in her wake. Glimpses of a police uniform chased her through the slats in the gate before the cop rounded the corner, closing in on her. Swerving, she pounded across the small bridge separating the sidewalk from the stream, ripples in the fast-moving stream and abandoned swings rattling in her wake. Saige gained ground slowly, her heart pounding in her ears, and with a tremendous leap she cleared a small row of manicured shrubs and dove into the undergrowth. Catching herself on her wrists and knees—_fuck, that would hurt in the morning!_—she rolled farther into the wooded part of the park, trees covering her trail.

Red dots sparkled in front of her eyes as she pressed herself into the dirt, roots digging into her stomach and legs. The cop stormed past her hiding spot, and she allowed herself a deep breath. Saige belly-crawled forward, coming to a jerking halt as her foot caught something and refused to budge. Craning her neck and glancing back slowly, Saige shot backwards, landing on her rear and putting as much distance between her and the man who lay sprawled in the dirt a few feet from her. His ankle was bent gruesomely backwards, and bloody silt pooled under him, staining his habit a deep burgundy.

"You've got to be joking." Digging her hands under him, Saige rolled him over, taking in a surprising amount of damage—blood dribbled weakly from his collarbone, ribs and arm. It was a wonder he was still breathing. Pushing him up into a sitting position, she crouched and wound her arm under his, pressing into his side to lift him. His weight made her stumble, off-balance, as she dragged him out an obscure entrance of the park.

Pedestrians crowded the sidewalks, and Saige groaned. There would be no way to get this man down the street unnoticed.

With a resolute frown, she pulled him onto the sidewalk, flung up her free arm and shouted, "Taxi!"

* * *

City noise woke Silas—people yelling, car horns, and far-off construction that never seemed to end. Dragging his eyes open, he was greeted by a high ceiling; was this Heaven? Hauling himself upright and gasping at the ragged pain that tore through his shoulder, he decided that in fact, this was anything _but_ Heaven. A survey of his surrounding revealed a modest room—a squat bureau opposite his bed, a window over looking a ratty liquor store and door that led out into an equally blank hallway.

Silas swung his feet over the edge of the bed to stand and almost collapsed as his ankle gave way in a flash of pain. His hand shot out to catch himself against the wall and the monk took a deep breath before pushing himself up, hobbling along against the wall.

The first door he passed was open, revealing an untouched bathroom—the toothbrush was still in its casing. The next two were on his right; thick, solid wood with heavy locks. Pushing against one, it didn't budge, and Silas gave up and moved down the hallway.

In a few feet, the hallway opened into the living room. On Silas's right was a sectional couch flush against the wall, a TV and several large bookcases. A marble counter in front of him separated the kitchen from the living room, and to his left—the door.

As quick as his injuries would allow, Silas lunged for the door.

"You really shouldn't be moving around yet, especially not on that ankle."

Silas spun around; crying out as his ankle twisted the wrong way and dropped him to he knees. A young woman—how had he not seen her?—rose from the couch and slung his arm over her shoulder, steering him to the couch and taking a seat in the armchair at a right angle to him. She gestured to a couple of pills and a glass of water on the coffee table. "You're going to want to take these."

The albino eyed the pills with suspicion. "No." Glaring at her, he demanded, "Where am I?"

Unperturbed, she countered, "Take the pills and I'll tell you." When he didn't budge, she sighed. "If I really wanted you dead, did you think I would've brought you here?"

Silas reached for the pills, but froze again. With Bishop Aringarosa gone, no one could protect him. Silas snatched his hand away, and she frowned. "I'm not Opus Dei."

Silas had to concede there—she didn't _look_ Opus Dei. Café-au-lait skin clashed with shocking red hair and icy blue eyes, and loose, functional clothes betrayed more skin that Silas was used to. A gold cross glinted around her neck, but the shine of steel caught his eye above it. The monk's gaze traveled farther up her neck and he jerked back into the couch cushions, horrified.

Tight around her neck was a cilice—the skin around it stretched and pale. Racking his mind for a logical explanation, Silas drew a blank—if she wore it too long, it would kill her. The young woman cleared her throat, startling the monk, and he snapped his eyes back to her face. She gestured at the pills, and Silas shook his head, his lips tight. Her eyes steely, she reached for them both, placed them in her cupped hands and shook them. Silas arched an eyebrow as she dropped them back on the coffee table. "If they're laced," she said, "your guess is as good as mine."

Silas scowled. "You first."

A shrug, and then she picked up a pill, popped it in her mouth and washed it down with half of the glass of water. Now she looked expectantly at him until he did the same. Silas concentrated hard, searching for the effects of poison, but found none. "I told you I wasn't Opus Dei."

The monk's eyes narrowed. "How did you know I was hiding from Opus Dei?"

"I saw the scars on your back when I was cleaning the bullet wounds. Corporal mortification, I'm guessing. The habit might've tipped me off, as well." She stood and crossed over to the kitchen, pulling a frying pan from a drawer. Looking back at him, she smiled, "My name is Saige." Gesturing to the fridge, "Is there anything in particular you want to eat?"

Silas shrugged and Saige turned away, fishing eggs out of the fridge and cracking them over a frying pan. While the eggs sizzled, she told him, "As I was saying, I would appreciate it if you didn't move around so much. You twisted your ankle as you were running, and you were shot three times. One shot ricocheted off your ribs, and the second went clean through your arm. The third, however, I had to remove, so I wouldn't jostle about if I were you. You've been asleep for three days." She turned to the cupboard. "Today is Friday—so no meat, correct? Would you prefer toast instead?"

Wary, Silas nodded, watching her carefully until she finally brought over two plates of eggs and toast, as well as two cups of tea. When Silas didn't pick up a plate, she gave him a look. "You watched me the entire time. Unless I raised a chicken, fed it poison and then scrambled the poison-ridden eggs for you, you have no reason not to eat." Hesitantly, Silas forked a few eggs and put them in his mouth, chewing slowly.

As he ate, Saige pointed down the hall. "The room you woke up in is yours, and so is the bathroom right next to it. There is everything you need in there—spare clothes and toiletries. If I were you, I would go take a shower." She looked over his injuries. "Would you like me to help you get there?"

Silas polished off his eggs—he hadn't realized how hungry he was—and shook his head. "I'll go myself."

* * *

An hour later, the shower turned off, and Saige listened as the monk slowly hobbled into his room. She admired his caution. Moving to collect the dirty dishes, a small splatter of blood caught her eye. "That's not good."

The monk was knocked out cold on the bed, his skin still glistening with water. Saige was grateful he had pulled up the covers—for his sake as much as hers.

On the bureau, his cilice glinted in the setting sun from the window, its barbs a brilliant red. A glance at the man confirmed her was really asleep and Saige picked up the cilice, plugged the sink and filled it with hydrogen peroxide and dropped it in. Bubbles hissed to the surface as the chemical scoured away the blood, and when the bubbles finally stopped rising, she pulled the cilice out and hung it on the door hook.

Then she went back into the living room, picked up her book, and sat down to wait.

* * *

REVIEW, DAMNIT!

_Come on!_

_Kit &_ Violet


	2. Chapter 2

Jerks.

_Thanks to our one reviewer._

Jerks.

_And...for the fourteen hits._

Jerks.

_Damn, this is like subliminal messaging, but for fanfiction._

Jerks.

_**Warnings: The usual**_

_**Disclaimers: We own nothing but the plot and Saige, and some scattered OC's throughout.**_

_BTW, we actually are Russian Orthodox, so that is why we picked the religion for our story. We didn't want to pick something else (for example, Church of Latter Day Saints) and then get something wrong and offend our readers. Also, if some readers are also Russian Orthodox, and you do/believe differently, tell us, because it would be interesting to hear about!_

_(9/11/11)_

_(Rewrite of chapter two. Not many differences yet.)_

* * *

Damn, it was cold.

Shaking his head groggily, Silas realized as he woke up that it was probably because he fallen asleep still wet from his shower. As he sat up, his shoulder twinging, his eyes strayed across his right thigh—thank God he'd remember to pull up the covers—and then his eyes snapped to the bureau, finding it startlingly empty. _Where is my cilice? _

He lurched out of bed, hissing as his ankle struck the ground. Looking around for his habit, he found it in one of the bureau's drawers, washed and folded. Throwing it on hastily, he grasped the doorjamb and propelled himself down the hall.

"It's in your bathroom, on the door hook."

Silas froze. "Hello?"

"I'm in the living room," came Saige's voice, "I wasn't expecting you to be up for another hour or so. Would you like breakfast?"

A bit too surprised to respond, Silas found the cilice exactly where she'd said it would be as the smell of microwaved oatmeal filled the house. He paused. Was it a house? Or an apartment? It occurred to him that he hadn't even looked out the window yet, or even out the balcony of the living room.

It was slow work, getting into the kitchen, and even harder to haul himself onto a barstool by the counter. Saige watched him carefully, stirring the oatmeal almost absently, the steam curling around her fingers. "Why do you wear that?"

The albino was taken by surprise by her sudden question. "Because," he said slowly, "Pain is good. It reminds me of Christ's suffering." He paused, then asked cautiously, "Why do you wear one?"

Saige laughed harshly and stood suddenly—making Silas flinch— and brushed her long hair over her shoulder to reveal the back of her neck. Silas's jaw dropped—there was no buckle—the ends of the cilice were welded together, making impossible for her to remove it. "It isn't like I can just take it off." She frowned. "Personally, I think it isn't worth it."

"Isn't _worth_ it?" Silas repeated, stunned. "Our Lord died for us! It is the least we can do to feel his suffering!"

Saige looked at him strangely—as if he just told her the sky was brown—and then took a deep breath. "In Russian Orthodoxy, we believe that as Christ carried his wooden cross to his death, he carried on it the sins of mankind. Each of us is given our own cross to bear—our own problems. Why add a cilice? God has seen your life before you've lived it and determined the amount of sufferings you will endure. Do you doubt His decision, or think that you can decide better? The Savior gave us each our own cross to bear, and to ask for more is disrespectful."

The monk paused and opened his mouth, at a loss for words. No one had ever phrased it like that. All he could say was, "That is the Way."

The girl shrugged and stood, moving to make herself a cup of tea. "I'm not criticizing your religious views. You asked for an answer, and I gave you one." She flicked on the electric teapot. "I have a Discipline if you need it—it's in the bottom left drawer of the bureau in your room."

It suddenly occurred to Silas that he hadn't seen a second bedroom in the apartment. "Where do you sleep?" he asked.

Saige smiled. "Don't worry, monk, I have a bed."

"Silas," he blurted suddenly. "My name is Silas."

The girl nodded. "Silas. I like that name." She turned away to pull two mugs from an overhead cupboard. "Tea?"

* * *

When Silas walked into the kitchen the next morning, Saige was already there making pancakes. He sat down on the barstool and leaned against the counter, trying to ignore the odd feeling of not wearing his cilice. After what Saige had said yesterday, the monk had left it hanging on the door hook, suddenly not inclined to put it on. He had found the Discipline where she'd had told him it would be, but he hadn't felt an urge to use it either. The unease weighed him down like a bag of bricks, and yet he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Saige glanced up at him and smiled, handing him a plate stacked high with pancakes, and a cup of tea. Pulling a chair out across from him, she reached over her plate for the sugar and Silas watched as her cross skimmed through her cup of tea. "Why do you wear that?"

The young woman looked up, her eyes wide. "It's a symbol of the crosses we all carry," she explained.

The albino arched an eyebrow. "You never take it off?"

"Never. I've worn it since I was born." She paused. "My grandmother gave it to me when I was christened."

Silas nodded and poked at his pancakes, eating a couple. Saige grinned. "I know what you're thinking. You can ask."

He didn't look up. "_Russian_ Orthodoxy in Great Britain?"

"I was born and raised in St. Petersburg. Moved here when I was twelve." Saige gently blew the steam from her tea cup and took a deep swallow. Silas watched in awe—his cup was scalding; he couldn't even pick it up by the handle.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle tore through the room, startling them. Saige slid off her chair, grabbed the phone, and pressed it to her ear. Even though he was several yards away, Silas could hear the person on the other end—they sound hysterical. There was something else in the background that sent a chill stealing down his spine—there was howling, and it sounded _very_ human.

Saige nodded, murmured something and hung up. She tossed the phone on the coffee table and sent it skittering across the wood before shouldering a satchel and reaching for her keys. She yanked a key off the ring and held it up a moment before setting it on the kitchen counter by the microwave. "I have to leave. That's the key; use it if you need to go out. There are spare clothes in the bureau—I estimated your size, so I'm sorry if they're too small. Also, the drugs are bound to make you drowsy, so I would recommend getting some sleep." She gestured to the fridge. "Help yourself to anything."

Silas nodded, and Saige looked him over one more time before disappearing.

Silas set the last of the plates in the dishwasher, then set off back to his room. He wasn't about to pass out in the hallway, but as he headed back to his bed, he noticed that one of the doors on his left—one of the two that were always locked—was open. Curious, even though he was fully aware that it was a sin to pry into business that wasn't his own, Silas stepped in.

And his jaw dropped.

It turned out that the strange home that Saige lived in was much larger than she let on. A large room—at least three times the size of her living room—stretched past the door, ending in a wall of windows covered in long curtains. Silas's bare feet padded on the light wooden floor, and he noticed several strange things.

The door Silas came through was on the far left, and on the right side of the enormous room was a pallet on the floor; one that looked like it was used often, and several shelves that held random assortments of herbs and oils. A large cross, a wooden bowl and several altar candles lay on a small table next to the pallet.

On the far left side of the room, next to the windows, there was a spiral staircase that wound up into the high ceiling. Silas climbed cautiously, watchful of his ankle, until his head poked over the ceiling. Guilt and shame washed over him.

He was in Saige's room.

* * *

REVIEW DAMNIT! JERKS!

_Not including __igbogal__!_

_Kit &_ Violet


	3. Chapter 3

_Geez, thanks for the reviews! _

Oh, just for the rest of you, y'all know that you can leave anonymous reviews.

_Yeah, because we have 65 hits, and unless our two reviewers have been coming back and rereading so many times (which would be flattering but highly unlikely). _

So, REVIEW DAMNIT!

_This gets interesting!_

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

_(9/12/11)_

_(Rewrite of chapter three. It starts to get a little different here.)_

* * *

Sky blue paint was chipped around the edges of the walls, and Silas's feet sank into the thick blue-gray carpet. A fold-out couch was shoved into the corner with sheets haphazardly strewn over it, and another door was on the opposite wall. Unable to help himself, Silas stepped farther into the room. He _knew_ he shouldn't be in another's room—let alone a _woman's_ room—without express permission, but the urge to explore was too strong. The monk sighed; he would certainly need the Discipline later.

What entranced him the most was the amount of books that were...well, _everywhere_. There were books on her bed, under it; stacks of them up against the walls and crowding on several bookshelves. Open books were all over the floor and the small dresser, and were even hanging open on the railing.

The door on the far side of the room, Silas discovered, led to the bathroom, where the monk found a strange assortment of things.

There were bottles of dye _everywhere_, fighting for space on the sink counter. Some were outrageous colors of costume hair dye and others were drugstores dyes for blonde, brunette and black hair. Others were various brands of tan sprays and lotions, their smell hanging thick in the air of the small bathroom.

In fact...Silas's head spun and he sank to the floor. _This isn't good_. He tried to get up, to get back to his room, but it was just too much work to keep his eyes open as he sank into oblivion.

* * *

When Silas woke up, he found himself back in his room, his habit bunched uncomfortably from where he had rolled around in his sleep. He heard water running from the kitchen, and his face reddened with shame. He'd obviously passed out in Saige's bathroom—she must have brought him back to his room. Standing and straightening his habit—vaguely noticing that his ankle didn't hurt as much as it had before—he limped out to the living room.

Saige was in the kitchen, washing something green from her hands. As he walked in, she smiled, but said nothing. Silas's blush deepened—she knew, but didn't chastise him. Once Silas had settled down on the couch, the girl brought over a bowl of steaming soup. When he looked at her empty hands, Saige shook her head, looking weary. "I'd rather not eat—it'll only come back up."

Worried, Silas picked up his bowl, mindful of the hot porcelain. As he ate, he suddenly paused and said, "You're strange."

Startled out of her thoughts, Saige looked at him. "Oh?"

Silas set down his soup. "You welcomed me into your home without question. You don't know who I am. You're clearly not afraid of me. Why?"

Saige shrugged. "We all have our secrets. I don't need to pry in what's not my business."

"I owe you my life. I should keep no secrets."

The girl smiled. "That is one of the most absurd things I've ever heard." She paused. "There is one thing I'd like to ask, however."

Silas was surprised—she asked permission to question him? "Of—Of course."

"What brought you to Opus Dei?"

Saige watched with misgiving as the monk froze—perhaps she had asked too personal a question. She started to apologize, but a hoarse whisper cut her off. With a click, she snapped her jaw shut as Silas began to speak.

"My father enjoyed beating my mother and me. When I was seven, he killed her. That night, _I_ killed _him_—stabbed him to death. Then I ran. I lived on the streets until I was eighteen. Then I had got into a fight and killed several men in a rage. They threw me in jail the next day."

Silas looked up at Saige, expecting to see disgust or fear, but her face betrayed nothing. Taking a steadying breath, he continued, "I was in jail for seven years years, until an earthquake sent by God freed me. Bishop Aringarosa _saved_ me, made me a disciple of Opus Dei—and I have been for ten years."

Saige frowned. "Aringarosa? Manuel Aringarosa?" Her voice was tight. "That name is familiar to me." Silas blinked in shock. She _knew_ the Bishop?

The girl paused, and then said, "My father was very religious, very set in his ways as a Catholic—it was my grandmother who christened me Russian Orthodox in secret—and he was very, very abusive. My mother was schizophrenic, so I don't know how much she understood in our lives." Her voice grew colder as she continued. "I had—have, I hope—a little brother. I ran to Britain when he was four, and I was sixteen. That was eight years ago."

She looked up, and Silas was surprised to see that her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "You remind me of him, actually. He was brilliant—my father almost never laid a hand on him. I hope that hasn't changed."

The albino wanted to say something comforting, but he couldn't seem to find the words. Instead, he asked uncertainly, "Since you are Russian Orthodox, do you have a priest?"

Saige brightened. "We have a church, albeit small, but it fits our needs." She cocked her head to the side and asked, "You want to go to Confession? Father Michael will be happy to see you, but Orthodox Confession is different than that of Catholic churches. I'll take you the next time I'm able to go."

Silas nodded, happy. Confession had been nagging at him ever since he had arrived in Saige's home, and it was a relief to find out that there was a priest that could help him. He started to say something when Saige's gaze snapped to the door. Heavy footsteps were coming down the hall, and seconds later there was a pounding on the door. "Help us!"

Saige bolted for the door, pulling it open just in time to catch a girl who toppled over the threshold. She was Hispanic, Silas could see, but he recoiled as her arm flailed to the side. The girl's mother was frantic. "I don't know what happened!" she insisted, "Strange boys bother my daughter on the way back from school, and she came home like this!"

Saige seemed surprisingly calm as she propped the gasping teenager up. "Of course. Just wait in here, and no matter what you hear, do _not_ come in." Quickly, she pulled the girl down the hall, leaving Silas and the mother alone. Seconds later, the two heard a door slam shut and screaming begin.

Floored, Silas didn't know what to do besides offer the woman a box of tissues. Gratefully, the woman blew her nose and looked the monk over. "Are you her apprentice?"

"Apprentice in what?" Silas asked, stunned. The woman looked at him strangely, and he murmured a brief apology before ducking into the hallway.

The screaming was coming from the room the Silas had snuck into earlier in the day. Cautiously, he laid a hand on the doorknob, jerking back at the door slid open. Once again, his jaw dropped—_this seems to be becoming a habit,_ he noted belatedly.

The pallet that he had seen earlier was now occupied by the girl, who was screaming and thrashing around. Saige kneeled above her, pressing the cross to her chest and murmuring prayers in Russian. A stray hand caught her in the cheek, tearing a gash, but Saige paid in no mind, instead searching with her free hand for the wooden bowl behind her.

Unable to look away, Silas rushed over and handed her the bowl. Saige didn't spare him a glance as she dumped the contents of the bowl over the girl. Immediately, she stopped thrashing and lay still. Saige sat back on her haunches, wary. "Step back, Silas."

The girl sat up suddenly, coughing harshly and spitting water down her chin. It appeared to be a black seed. Saige handed the girl a bottle of water, and waited until she had drained half of it before asking, "These boys, what did they look like?"

The girl sat up, gasping. "One was tall with black hair and strange gray eyes, and the other two were both redheads—twins."

"Did they ever say anything to you? Today perhaps?"

The girl looked guilty. "Yeah. I tried to tell them off. I'm not sure what they said."

Saige nodded, and handed the girl the cross that she had used. "Carry this in a separate pocket of your schoolbag for a month, away from everything else. If you see these boys again, turn the other direction and come to me _immediately_. Understood?" The girl nodded, and Saige continued, "Go to your mother; I'll follow in a moment."

As the girl stumbled off, Saige stood, her face drawn. Silas was speechless. "How in the Lord's name did you do that?"

Saige started to answer, but she slumped against the shelves. Taking a few deep breaths, she answered, "It's a family tradition. My grandmother—the one that christened me—trained to be a nun, but found life in the convent to be too," she searched for a word, "_dry_. She wanted instead to be a priest, to help congregations, but obviously couldn't be ordained. So she stole some books from the clergy and taught herself. She could see the demons that plagued people, and when I was born, she realized I could as well. I learned from her."

The monk nodded, stunned silly. "Who did that to the girl? Witches? Devils?"

"Anyone or anything in between." Saige shook her head to clear her thoughts and then headed for the door, back to the living room. After glancing around to make sure no vestiges of the demon were still around, Silas followed.

As he walked into the living room, Saige was already showing the two off, and the mother was pressing a check into Saige's hands. As the girl closed the door behind them, she rolled her eyes at Silas. "They scold me if I don't accept pay." She sank down onto the sofa, exhausted. Silas hurried to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a wet rag.

"Thank you." She drained the water and grabbed the rag, mopping her face. With a sigh, she leaned back.

Silas was about to answer, but he stopped, staring transfixed at the girl's face. Brown water streaked down her face, revealing pale skin beneath what Silas now realized was tan lotion. Saige cracked an eye open and found him staring at her. She brought a hand up to her cheek, swearing as it came back brown. She smiled awkwardly at Silas. "Well, fuck a duck, this is awkward."

* * *

REVIEW! NOW! OR WE'LL HOLD OUT!

_Kit &_ Violet


	4. Chapter 4

_Gee, thanks for the reviews!_

REVIEW SOME MORE, DAMNIT!

_Okay...anyway...um...enjoy?_

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual. We own nothing but the plot, the witty dialogue and Saige. **__**The song is 'Drops of Jupiter' by Train.**_

_(9/16/11)_

_(Rewrite of chapter four.)_

* * *

Silas sat on the couch, anxiously waiting as her footsteps padded down the hallway. What could she be hiding under all of the dye?

He gasped.

Saige had washed off all of the remaining dye, revealing skin paler than his own, veins coursing under translucent skin. Her hair, rinsed clean and dripping water on the carpet, was a shock of white, and his eyes followed Saige's hand as she massaged the skin just under her pink eyes. "You're _albino_?"

Saige nodded as she sat down across from him. "It's not something I like to advertise."

"But why dye yourself?"

She winked. "No one can fake being an albino; an albino can fake being anyone." She smiled. "You're welcome to use the dyes if you'd like—it's mostly spray-on tans and drugstore hair dye that's fairly easy to apply—but I'd rather you didn't go outside yet. Your injuries have a long while left to recover, and after all this nonsense I would appreciate it that after all of this excitement, you would spend the next few days sleeping."

Despite her smile, the tone in her voice left no room for argument, and Silas stood awkwardly on his busted ankle, heading for his room.

* * *

Several days later, after Saige had announced that he was well enough to move about again, Silas sat on the couch, reading one of the many books that Saige had everywhere. Things had changed so drastically in the ten years he was in Opus Dei—it turned out Saige had a laptop as well, and she had let him use it while she was gone. And the things he saw on the television...well, to call them baffling was an immense understatement.

Saige moved around the kitchen, frying some meat that smelled delicious. She had cut back on the dye, but Silas was still getting used to seeing her so pale. As the meat hissed on the pan, she suddenly spoke. "May I ask you another question?"

Silas nodded, and Saige looked at him. "What was your purpose within Opus Dei? I've seen your picture on the news, and it seems like you killed quite a few rather important people." She frowned, then added quietly. "Did _Bishop Aringarosa_ tell you to kill them?"

Dread permeated Silas's bones, clutching his heart with an iron grip. _She knew._ She had known the _entire time_, and said _nothing_. He almost wondered if she knew that harboring a murderer was _illegal_, but instead he replied, "Have you ever heard of the Priory of Sion?"

Saige laughed. "Oh dear Lord. Don't tell me the Church is still looking for Mary Magdalene!" She shook her head. "Just how many lives were lost for that myth?"

"_Myth?"_ Silas shot to his feet, outraged, "It isn't a myth!"

"Mary was barren!"

All retorts died in Silas's throat. "W-What?"

Saige nodded. "Mary was barren—she couldn't have children. When Christ healed her, he banished the demons, but the women in Mary Magdalene's family had trouble bearing children. Mary herself couldn't have children _at all_. It's written in ancient tablets dating back to King David's time—Mary's great-grandmother had nearly a zero chance of bearing a child and the odds only grew worse with her child, and her child's child."

"But what of the child she had with her?" Silas asked, "What of her pregnancy?"

"Sarah wasn't her biological child. The whole thing is an absolute myth." Saige slid the meat onto a plate and continued, "Mary Magdalene's bones lie beneath the Louvre. I've seen them, and her hips show none of the signs of giving birth. _None_ of it is real—the Priory is as misled as you are. Christ had no child, Mary was never pregnant."

Silas paused—it was a _myth_? Had the Bishop known? No, he couldn't have known; he was so worried about the Pope excommunicating Opus Dei. "Why do you speak of the Bishop with such contempt?"

Saige slammed two mugs onto the counter with more force than was necessary, but she didn't look up. "I have met the Bishop before—he's a two-faced, vicious bastard."

"That's a _lie_!" Silas exclaimed. "He saved me! The Bishop is a good man!"

Saige scoffed. "From your point of view, I understand why you would worship the ground he walks on. And I'm not saying you shouldn't, but I have met him under much different circumstances. The bishop I met was not such good man."

A chill ran down the monk's spine. "What do you mean?"

The young woman brought over the food and tea. "When my father found out that I could exorcise demons, and he dragged me and my grandmother to Spain to see Bishop Aringarosa. That _man_," she spat out the word, "convinced my father that both I and my grandmother were possessed. He tried to exorcise us himself in the most sadistic ceremony I've ever endured—and killed my grandmother in the process. I was younger and stronger, so I survived. I ran away soon after that."

Silas reached for his plate, but a ragged gasp cut through him as his shoulder burned with raw pain. As it dimmed, Saige pressed a bottle of pills into his hands. For the first time, Silas noticed that they weren't even prescribed to the girl. "What are these anyway?"

"Painkillers. I thought you knew."

He pushed them back into her hands. "I can't take these. Pain is good."

Saige scowled. "No, pain _was_ good. Not anymore. Right now, sudden pain like that means that you aren't healing as fast as you should be, or that you're not healing right. So unless you'd like me to cut your arm open again, I would suggest you take them."

Cowed, Silas obediently took two.

* * *

Silas woke up in his room—he vaguely remembered Saige helping him to his bed—a faint humming buzzing in his ears. As he sat up and shook his head clear of the drugs, he realized it wasn't humming—it was music.

_**Now that she's back in the atmosphere  
With drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey, hey  
She acts like summer and walks like rain  
Reminds me that there's time to change, hey, hey**_

_**Since the return from her stay on the moon  
She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey, hey**_

Silas stood, wondering where the music was coming from. Glancing around for his habit, he remembered it was at the bottom of the laundry basket, forcing him to put on a pair of jeans and a thick, hooded sweatshirt. Stepping out into the hallway and noticing with pleasure that his ankle hurt less and less these days, Silas realized the music was coming from Saige's exorcism room. Careful, he weaseled the door open a crack and peered in.

_**Tell me did you sail across the sun  
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded  
And that heaven is overrated**_

_**Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star  
One without a permanent scar  
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there**_

Over by the windows, Saige was dancing. _No, wait_—Silas squinted; she wasn't dancing, she was attacking the air. She crossed the floor in fluid steps and leaps to the time of the music, each move flowing into another. At certain intervals, her foot or hand would lash out in an attack, but it was gone as quickly as it had been there, and she was halfway across the floor.

_**Now that she's back from that soul vacation  
Tracing her way through the constellation, hey, hey  
She checks out Mozart while she does tae-bo  
Reminds me that there's room to grow, hey, hey**_

_**Now that she's back in the atmosphere  
I'm afraid that she might think of me as plain ol' Jane  
Told a story about a man who is too afraid to fly so he never did land**_

Silas watched in silent amazement—he had never seen anyone move like that. He could kill a man with his bare hands, but he was never formally trained; although, as he watched Saige, he suspected that neither was she. Few people would be able to replicate the complex movements Saige led her sinewy body through, her cilice glinting in the light. Silas's eyes trailed down her neck to the curve of her collarbone—suddenly, the monk caught himself, and instinctively flexed his thigh where his cilice should have been. What was he _thinking_? He was sworn to celibacy!

_**Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet  
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day  
And head back to the Milky Way**_

_**And tell me, did Venus blow your mind  
Was it everything you wanted to find  
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there**_

Quietly, Silas stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, leaning against the wall to watch and absently wondering where Saige had learned to move like that. Had her grandmother taught her, as well as teaching her the secrets of exorcisms? She didn't seem to realize that he was there, her eyes closed as she moved around the room on her toes. Her skin looked transparent in the harsh light, and Silas was impressed to see that she hadn't even broken a sweat.

_**Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken  
Your best friend always sticking up for you even when I know you're wrong**_

_**Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance, five-hour phone conversation  
The best soy latte that you ever had . . . and me**_

As the music swelled, Saige cartwheeled forward and came back up swiftly, her shirt bunching up around her ribs. Silas flinched back in horror—gruesome scars scrawled over her back, harsh against her white skin. The monk blinked to make sure he was seeing them correctly. Where in the _world_ had those _come_ from?

_**Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet  
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day  
And head back toward the Milky Way**_

_**Tell me did you sail across the sun  
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded  
And that heaven is overrated**_

Inexplicably, Silas felt rage roiling in the pit of his stomach. He realized that he wanted to hunt down whoever it was that gave Saige those scars, _and_ whoever forced that cilice onto her neck, and torture them in cruel and unusual ways. He smirked—here in Great Britain, there was no Constitution to stop him.

_**Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star  
One without a permanent scar  
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there**_

_**And did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day,**_

_**And did you fall from a shooting star,**_

_**Fall from a shooting star, **_

_**And are you lonely by yourself out there...**_

The music slowed to a halt and so did Saige, her movements growing slower until she came to a stop. Opening her eyes, she spotted Silas. "Enjoy the show?"

He nodded and Saige turned off the CD player, wrapping a towel around her neck and walking up to Silas. "I need a shower, and then I'm off for groceries." She hesitated. "Do you want to go with me?"

The monk blinked in surprise. "Yes, thank you."

Saige smiled, delighted. "Perfect! I left a can of tanning spray and some costume hair spray—don't worry, nothing too crazy," she added as he made a face, "in your bathroom. Do you need help applying them? Your arm is probably still very stiff."

He shook his head. "No, thank you. I'm sure I can do it myself."

* * *

As Silas heard the shower running, he berated himself for not accepting Saige's offer to help. His jerky arm left streaks of tanning dye on his forehead and hands, and the black hair spray proved to be worse, the smell nauseating him and the dye dripping onto his face. And what was he supposed to do about his eyebrows? By the time he had decided that it was as good as it would get, Saige was already in the kitchen.

When Silas walked into the living room, fingering a dye stain on his sweatshirt, he heard Saige gasp in surprise. He glanced at her—the exorcist was biting her lip to keep from laughing. Slowly, she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I really shouldn't laugh. Here," she walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a wet rag, walking back. She stopped tentatively in front of Silas, her hand halfway in the air. "May I?"

Silas nodded, and Saige gently wiped off the majority of the paint. Stepping back, she scowled. "Oh damn. I made it worse."

The monk took the rag from her and wiped his face clean. "It's alright. Perhaps I'd better just stay home."

Saige's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but Silas couldn't understand what was so intriguing. She nodded. "Alright then. I won't be gone very long. Please make yourself some tea, take the painkillers and lie down for a while. There's already hot water in the teapot." Silas assured her that he would do exactly as she asked, and Saige was out the door.

As the albino was struggling to fish a stubborn tea packet out of the box, he grinned as realized what had surprised Saige. He had called this place home.

* * *

REVIEW DAMNIT!

_And check out our __Angels & Demons__ fics! __They're good!_

_Kit &_ Violet


	5. Chapter 5

_Okay, Curious-One brought up something I should have mentioned before, and I'm kinda peeved at myself that I didn't._

_We realize that this fic seems very similar to SalvationofSilas, which, incidently is a really, really good fic (and we're not saying that to kiss up, because it really is really well-written), **BUT**, it most certainly is not. We started writing this fic in late 2005, while SoS was published in '06. Back then, we didn't know about FF, and we wanted to post on Quizilla. We, however, lost the notebook, and just recently found it. GS seems very similar to SoS, but the story is very, very different. We sincerely apologize to Elizabeth7, and want to let him/her (you never know) know that we **in**** no ****way** meant to plagarize or steal his/her idea. The story gets very different in the next few chapters. Again, we're very sorry for any mishaps, and are sorry that we didn't address this sooner._

Sorry we didn't post for so long, but we were in California and were using a computer that wasn't Kit's, and so it didn't have the stories. Also, our flash drives suddenly decided to not work, peeving us greatly.

Also, there is a prize for the person who can guess what the soup is called that Silas is eating in the first paragraph!

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

_(10/19/11)_

_(Sorry it's taking so long to edit this. Life is...far more life-like that necessary. Thank you for being patient. Also, as addressed above, the changes between GS and SoS will become more drastic as the changes progress (and I do suggest you read the story and its sequel, they're amazing). We do apologize again for any mishaps.)_

* * *

"What is this again?"

Silas eyed a bowl of unnaturally red soup—Saige had called it something Russian, but now he couldn't remember for the life of him—as Saige sat down across from him. As he finally buckled down and ate, she placed a few papers on the table, within his reach. Glancing over one, Silas paused with the soup spoon halfway to his mouth. "Monasteries?"

She didn't meet his gaze. "Yes. In Switzerland—there's no extradition." Black fingernails picked at each other as she shrugged. "It's been a month and a half. I figure you've been wanting to move on with your own life now."

A lump of doubt settled in the pit of Silas's stomach as he looked over the list. Had it already been so long? It dawned on him that he hadn't even thought about what would happen after his wounds healed—where he would go, what he would do with himself. Somehow, he'd subconsciously decided that he'd stay here. _Stupid.__ She__'__s__ probably __already__ sick__ of__ me._

"Y'know," Saige mumbled offhandedly, without looking up from her hands, "You can stay as long as you need, Silas."

Silas blinked, surprised. _Or__ maybe__ she __isn__'__t._

* * *

Silas pulled his head up from the book he was reading as the clock struck nine. Across the couch from him, Saige rose, putting her book in its place on the table and heading down the hallway—just as she did every night. As usual, Silas watched her disappear into the corridor and went back to his book.

"Would you like to see?"

Startled, the monk realized that Saige had come back into the living room. "I'm sorry, what?"

She flushed. "Would you like to see where I go every night?"

"I have to admit, I _am_ curious." Silas stood, stepping into the hallway as Saige reached up to the doorjamb of the door next to the one that led to her room. The door slid open silently, revealing a small set of stairs.

Saige started up them after replacing the key. "Careful," she warned, "The ceiling is a bit low."

Coming to the top of the stairs, Silas gasped.

Icons of all shapes and sizes lined the walls—it would've been impossible to discern the color of the room if it hadn't been for a slim square of gray wall that bordered the large window. Every saint that Silas had ever heard of—and several hundred he hadn't, it seemed—hung from the walls, their eyes all focused on the two living souls standing below them. Some icons were ancient enough that they weren't hanging on the walls, but were lined on shelves. Silas couldn't tear his eyes away. "It's _magnificent_."

Saige smiled. "They're all the icons I've collected from my travels. Some of them belong to the church we have here, but I keep them to treat them for damage."

Silas still couldn't look away from the lacquered faces looking back at him. "So what do you do in here?"

The young woman shrugged. "Meditate, think. It's my calm-room." She smiled. "You're welcome to use it to pray, if you'd like."

The monk abruptly whirled to face her, stunned that she would wish to share such a personal treasure with him. Saige frowned. "Don't make that face—what's mine is yours."

Silas chuckled, something he hadn't done in a long time. "Thank you."

* * *

"Blast it!"

Saige stepped out of the hallway, her eyes fixating on the large hulk of Silas in the kitchen, wrestling with a box of hot cereal. A small smile tugged at her lips as she sat down by the counter. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to open this infernal box without making it explode. I'm cooking today."

Just then, Saige noticed that the water was already boiling for tea, and the table had been set. "You really don't have to—not with your arm still healing."

Silas growled, frustrated—was this damned box sealed with _cement_? "I have to repay you somehow."

Chuckling, the woman plucked the cereal box from Silas's hands, sliding her finger under the second flap and tearing it open. Silas flushed pink as she handed it back to him, and Saige grinned. "I have to help Father Michael at the church today." She watched as Silas mixed the hot cereal with milk, stirring it gently. "Would you please—"

"Drink some tea, take the painkillers, and get some sleep?" Silas supplied, a smile tugging at his lips.

Saige pouted playfully. "Exactly." Suddenly serious, she added, "Your ribs and ankle should be about healed by now. Your collarbone should be healing well too, but it's your arm I worry about. The bullet went straight through—that's a lot of muscle to rebuild."

"Don't worry," Silas assured her, "I'll do what you asked."

Saige arched an eyebrow as he handed her a bowl. "Are you _teasing_ me?"

"I might be." Silas was mildly surprised to find himself exchanging witty banter—he had never bantered wittily. Most likely because he had never had anyone to banter _with_.

The girl scowled playfully. "You'll regret it."

Silas nodded as he sat down next to her, grinning. "Of course I will."

"Now you really are teasing me."

* * *

Silas's eyes snapped open as the clock struck three. Had he slept so little? Glancing out the balcony, he realized that it was three in the _morning_. He sat up slowly, wincing as his arm straightened. The house was silent as a grave, and there was no sign that Saige had come home. Slowly, Silas stood and headed for his room.

He had barely set a foot into the hallway before the ground shot out from under him, crashing him to the floor. A groan slipped from his lips as he sat up, searching the ground for what he slipped on. Silas paled when his eyes found it—a thin line of blood trailed down the hall. Silas scrambled to his feet, his heart suddenly in his throat.

The blood led to his bathroom. A small strip of light shone from under the door—someone was in there. Silas swallowed thickly, his hand on the doorknob. What had _happened_?

Carefully pushing the door open, Silas jerked back as the scene unfolded. Saige slumped in the tub, her knees tucked up to her chest and her head leaning back against the wall. Her eyes were shut tight. The monk couldn't see if she was breathing or not, but what worried him more was the sheer amount of blood.

Blood was everywhere; on the floor, the walls, even smeared in the mirror and sink handles. Saige's clothes were in a bloody pile in the corner, and even the bra and panties she was still wearing were tinged pink. It ran in drying rivulets down her arms, chest and legs. Carefully, Silas pressed his fingers to her neck—her pulse was still there, but too faint.

Marshaling his thoughts and ordering himself not to panic, Silas rushed to the kitchen and grabbed several thick towels, soaking them in cool water. Cautious of both blood and water now, he brought them back to the bathroom and lifted Saige onto the counter. Her head rested against his shoulder, and Silas could feel her slight breath on the open collar of his shirt. Gently, he wiped away the blood, alarmed at how no new blood oozed—she had been here for a long time.

Again, Silas carefully picked Saige and went up to her room, settling her onto the bed and pulling the covers up to her chin. The monk turned to leave, but paused. What is something happened? He would never be able to hear her from downstairs. With a sigh, he pulled a book off one of the shelves and sat down on the bed. The conservative Opus Dei voice in his head protested vehemently, listing the implications of staying with her. _Shut__ up,_ Silas ordered himself, a bit put out that he was reduced to arguing with himself. _It__'__s__ to __keep __an__ eye__ on__ her,__ that__'__s __all._

Glancing at the clock, Silas leaned back against the headboard and opened the book. This would be a long night.

* * *

REVIEW DAMNIT!

_Kit __&_ Violet


	6. Chapter 6

_Happy 4th!_

Read, review, enjoy and don't burn anything/one!

_BTW, the winner of the Guess-The-Soup thing was Dessdemondra! She got a cameo on the story! But, it won't be for the next few chapters, so don't worry when she doesn't show up!_

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: We own nothing but the plot, Saige, her whacked-out father, and Noah.**_

_(1/1/12_

_We're finally begining to update again. Sorry it's taken so long.)**  
**_

* * *

_I'm warm._

That thought floated through Silas's mind as he drifted between sleep and consciousness. He was very warm, and his arms and chest were pressed against something. Whatever it was shifted, and Silas instinctively pulled it closer.

With that conscious action, the edges of sleep began to dissipate, slowly pulling Silas into wakefulness. He cracked his eyes open slowly and the world began to come into focus—Saige materialized before him, with his arms around her waist. Silas jerked back so roughly that he fell off the bed. Without looking back at Saige, he bolted for the stairs, booking it to his room and slamming the door home behind him.

What had he _done_? What had _happened_ the night before? It began to come back to him in fragments, but it did nothing to ease his frenzy. Silas started to pace, attempting to assure himself that all he did was keep an eye on her and had fallen asleep.

That was it.

The end.

Period.

A hesitant knock on his door a few minutes later startled the monk out of his panicked reverie. He cracked open the door to reveal Saige, pale skin and hair hidden under dyes. "I need to leave," she said quietly. "I probably won't be back until this afternoon."

Silas nodded.

Saige met his eyes. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that. I had thought I would be able to make it up to my room." She looked back down at the floor again. "Thank you."

His mouth dry, Silas was at a loss for words. When he nodded again, Saige smiled.

* * *

Silas tossed the last bloody towel into the washing machine and sat down on the couch, mindful of his shoulder. He had just finished cleaning the last of the blood from the hallway and bathroom floor—after spending five minutes arguing with Saige's offers to do it herself before he all but pushed her out the door. She had looked healthy enough when she came down the stairs, but the nagging feeling just wouldn't leave Silas—he had a feeling that it was something decidedly human that had given her those injuries.

_She looked healthy when you were in bed with her,_ a traitorous little voice hissed in the back of the albino's mind. Startled by such a lewd thought, Silas shook his head. That was the last thing he had been thinking.

Silas nearly jumped out of his skin as someone pounded on the door. Was Saige back already? Or maybe it was someone who needed her help. No, that was impossible—Saige would use her key, and someone in trouble would be making more noise than that.

Unless...

What if Saige was too injured to open the door? But then again, what if it was a stranger? Silas hadn't answered the door before, and he had no idea who would visit her.

"I know you're in there!" The man was yelling loud enough to rattle the glasses in the cupboard. "Open the fucking door before I blow his head off!"

_That leaves little room for options._ Rushing to the door, Silas fumbled with the locks before he was able to pull it open. A large man filled the doorway, one of his arms wrapped tight around a small boy's neck. The other clutched a gun. Silas stepped back warily, his mind racing. Was the boy possessed? A chill ran down the monk's spine. Or maybe it was the father.

The man crossed the threshold and looked around, propelling the boy in front of his. He turned on Silas. "Where is she?"

Silas lowered his voice, straining to be calm. "Saige is out at the moment. I might be able to help you instead?"

"Bitch probably saw me coming after yesterday." He rattled the boy in his grip. "Your stupid sister ran from me again. You know what that means, right?"

Silas tensed. "You're her father?" His voice grew cold and he drew himself up. "You aren't wanted here. Leave the boy and get out."

The man's eyes narrowed. "I think you're forgetting who's got the gun here. Make no mistake, do something stupid and I _will_ shoot him." He jerked a chair out with his foot and sat down. "If she isn't home, we're just going to wait for her.

Surreptitiously, Silas looked around for something to warn Saige with—she couldn't come home, not now. His eyes found the door to the icon room; could he put something up in the window? Would she see it? He stood slowly, turning toward the hallway. A sharp click behind him made him freeze. "Where _are_ you going?"

He turned back around slowly. "Your boy. He's injured, and there's ice and painkillers in the other room."

"I don't buy it." Gesturing around with his gun arm, so sickeningly unguarded that if Silas was two feet closer he could've lunged, the man snorted. "What are you even doing here? I didn't figure her to be one to shack up."

Rage flooded Silas, surprised that Saige's own father would talk about her that way. "I am a numerary of Opus Dei. I was injured, and your daughter happened to have saved my life.

The stranger smiled while the boy's expression melted into something ugly. Silas frowned—what was it with these people and Opus Dei? But just as suddenly as he had smiled, the man scowled again. "Get back here. You aren't going anywhere."

The monk lowered himself onto the opposite couch, out of options. He prayed that the man was only bluffing, that the gun was empty, and—most importantly—that Saige wouldn't be home any time soon.

* * *

Silas's heart caught in his chest as the doorknob rattled, and a wide grin spread over the man's face. The door creaked as Saige stepped in, and to her credit, she didn't look surprised; instead, she put her down and shut the door behind her. She did pause as she took in the boy sitting on the couch with them. "Noah."

The man stood, pulling Noah up. "Did you miss your father?"

Saige took a cautious step forward. "Not really." As she shifted, her cross fell from her shirt.

Her father's eye's narrowed. "Take it off." When Saige didn't move, he pressed his gun harder into Noah's head. "I said, take it off!"

With nimble fingers, the girl unfastened her chain, gripping it tightly. Her father nodded toward the ground. "Drop it."

An anxious look crossed Saige's face, but her hand slackened and the chain slipped through her fingers to the ground. Silas chest tightened—sometime ago, it would've been the equivalent of someone asking him to throw his cilice into the sewer.

But Saige turned to her father. "I doubt you held my brother and my guest hostage just to harass me about my religion."

The man spat on the floor. "I'll do whatever the hell I want. Your mother and I didn't raise you to follow that bullshit."

Saige's eyes narrowed, but her voice was cool. "You're right. You raised me Opus Dei, like that was somehow better."

Silas's jaw dropped. That explained everything. Saige had said her father had been a devout Catholic, and she had been telling almost the whole truth. Opus Dei was as devout as they came.

"What's the gimmick?" her father demanded, startling the monk.

Saige paused. "What?"

"The gimmick. Those exorcisms you do."

"There is no gimmick."

"Don't lie to me!" he snapped, a crazed look in his eye. "Both you and my damned mother-in-law could do it! What did she teach you?"

"You either have it or you don't." Saige insisted, "It can't be taught!"

"Lies!" He swung the gun to point it at her, and that was when Silas moved, slamming into him and sending them both to the ground. Noah tore out from under his father's grip as the two men fought. They crashed into the wall, and Saige's father had enough time to heft up his arm and shoot. The bullet skimmed past Saige's jaw to bury itself in the wooden door behind her.

It pulled Silas's attention away from him long enough for the other man to get up, shove past his daughter, and out the door.

* * *

_(grins) Hope you liked the twist!_

Review, and have a happy 4th!

_Kit &_ Violet


	7. Chapter 7

_Read and review.....my new ear piercing hurts like hell, so I don't wanna type much._

Poor Silas..........

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: We own nothing but Saige, Noah, her dad and a few other OC's later.**_

* * *

The monk started to say something, but a small, startled voice beat him to it. "You're bleeding!"

The albino glanced at Noah, who had run to his sister and then glanced at his sleeve, which was turning crimson. And now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Silas could feel the pain come roaring back. He grit his teeth.

Gently unwinding her brother's arms from around her neck, Saige grabbed her pack and crossed over to Silas, a frown on her face. "I thought I told you not to jostle around!"

Silas attempted a half-hearted smile as the girl pulled up his sleeve and surveyed the wound before pulling fresh gauze from her satchel. "It makes me wonder what kind of life you lead when you carry gauze with you."

Saige cracked a half-smile as Silas bit his lip, biting back the pain, but didn't look up from bandaging the wound. "A dangerous one. One where family members can be enemies too—as you just saw."

As she finished tying the gauze, Silas picked the cross up from the ground, handing it to Saige. "What do you do now?" he asked, "You said it was a capital sin to take off your cross."

Saige grinned. "But I didn't." At Silas's confused look, she explained, "I had a bad feeling today, so after I was done, I stopped by the jewelry store and picked up two chains; one looked exactly like mine, and a longer chain. I also got another cross." Silas looked at the cross in his hands—now that he looked closely, he could see it was made out of bronze. "Just before I came up, I put the fake cross on the fake chain, hid my real chain, and put my real cross on my long fake chain. Then I put both crosses on." She paused and frowned. "Did that make _any_ sense? Here, let me show you instead."

The girl fished a second chain out of her shirt, revealing her actual cross, which had hung where her father couldn't see it; just below her chest. She also pulled her real chain out from her pocket. After switching her real cross back to the real chain, she looked at the spare before handing it to Silas. "Please take it. It's a thank you for saving me and my brother."

Stunned, Silas took the cross, fastening the long chain around his neck and hiding the pendant beneath his shirt. It hung there, still warm from Saige's hands.

Meanwhile, Noah seemed to have gotten over the trauma of having his own father hold him hostage, and was busy exploring his sister's home. Finally, he stopped and peered at Silas, who was helping Saige pick up her supplies. "Who's this, Sister?"

Both Saige and Silas pause and exchanged an awkward glance before Saige answered slowly, "This is Silas. He's just a guest."

Silas was surprised by the disappointment her bluntly stated comment had sparked, but nodded. "Your sister saved my life."

Noah beamed with pride. "Exorcism?"

Saige silenced her sibling with a glance. "I'll tell you later, Noah. In the meantime, why don't you go make some tea?"

* * *

A half an hour later, after Saige had made sure Noah was alright making tea by himself, she stood and crossed over to Silas. "I have to leave," she told him, "I need to make sure my father is gone for good, and warn several others about him being here." The young woman glanced back at Noah. "I'm sorry to ask this of you, but I have no choice and I can't take him with me. Could you watch Noah for a few hours? There is really nothing to it—he'll sit and read the entire time. It's like watching a rock."

Silas paused; he knew as much about children as a farmer knew about metaphysics—suffice to say, nothing. He looked over at the boy—he was already curled up on the couch, buried in a book. "Of course."

Saige sighed in relief. "Thank you. I never meant to get you involved in any of this. I had no idea my father even knew I was still alive."

"This isn't your fault," Silas protested. "Your father truly is insane."

Saige paused, then gave Silas a quick, one-armed hug before bolting out the door. Turning beet-red, Silas hurried over to the couches, sitting down across from Noah. They sat that way for a little while before Noah startled Silas. "You like her don't you? I can tell."

Silas looked up, surprised. "Saige said that watching you would be like watching a rock," he said grimly.

The ten-year-old shrugged. "Well, I'm a talking rock. And you're avoiding my question."

"I don't," Silas said firmly. "I am a man of the church."

"Since when has that stopped anybody?"

The monk blinked, but said nothing. The child was right.

* * *

Silas jumped up as the door opened again, but his shoulders sagged in relief when he saw that it was just Saige. Noah got up and smiled, about to greet her, but the welcome died in his throat when he saw his sister's face.

Saige was tired—her face gray and sallow. She slumped against the door, exhausted, and her brother hurried over to help her to the couch. She smiled at him as she sat. "Thanks." Sighing, she turned to her brother. "Father brought friends, and lots of them. I can't keep you here. I'll have to send you Aunt Maddie's."

"No!" Noah exclaimed, horror in his face and voice. "Papa will find me there! I want to stay with you!" The boy threw his arms around Saige's waist, and Silas felt a strange and foreign pang of jealousy. Was it possible he was envious of the child? Silas shook his head—he couldn't; envy was one of the seven deadly sins.

"Father is coming back," Saige told him as she patted his head. "This is the least safe place for you."

"Then we should all leave! You and me and Silas!"

Silas looked up in surprise; he hadn't expected to be included. Saige looked startled as well. She shook her head. "I can't leave, people need me here. And besides, Silas wouldn't want to come with us—he has his own life." The girl glanced at Silas, and smiled, but the gesture was worn and anxious.

Saige turned to her brother. "I'll think on it. Noah, why don't you go play with the cats? I'm sure they're around here somewhere. Check up in my room."

Noah smiled and nodded, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. The boy turned and headed for his sister's room, pretending to search for imaginary cats.

Once he had gone, Saige turned to Silas, a grim look on her face. "It's no longer safe for you. I didn't want to say anything in front of Noah, but my father had very good friends in very high places—both in law enforcement and within Opus Dei. He won't hesitate to tell them that he was attacked by a large albino man." She paused and looked down. "You're a wanted man, and if my father's friends catch you, you'll either be put to death of handed over to the Opus Dei for God-knows-what. You need to leave, and soon."

"No!" Silas exclaimed passionately. "I owe you my life; I want to stay and help!" As he finished, the monk's eyes widened and he blushed, looking down.

Saige laughed. "It's been quite a long time since you told someone what you wanted, eh Silas?" Her expression turned serious. "But I'll have none of it. I refuse to let you get hurt because of my crazed father."

"And so you would rather that he hurt you instead?!" Silas demanded.

Something flashed in Saige's eyes and she snapped, "Yes, I would, damnit! This is my fight, and I don't want you getting hurt!"

Both of them froze after the heated argument. Silas looked down, and Saige cleared her throat. "It isn't safe here, Silas. Please, just trust me. I can get you a plane ticket to Zurich today, and you can leave tomorrow. Father Michael knows the Abbot of the Wurmsbach Abbey, and he can take you there." The girl glanced at the clock. "I'll make something for dinner, and then you should probably pack."

* * *

Silas sat on the bed, occasionally glancing at the clock. It was five in the morning, and he had been up for four hours. He just couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he was leaving—after two months, he was going back to life as a monk. The man supposed that he should be happy to go back to the life he had led for so long, but somehow, he didn't. With a heavy sigh, Silas grabbed his bag—one that Saige had given him to pack his things into—and headed out to the living room.

He was surprised to see that Saige was already there, sitting with her knees tucked up to her chest, watching the news. Without a word, Silas sat down next to her, only half-watching the TV. Saige's shoulder was pressed against his, and the monk felt more of that ridiculously comforting warmth. He almost groaned when Saige shifted and moved away.

The girl pulled a bag out from beside the couch and handed it to him. "It's just some extra things you might need," she explained, "Cash, phone, some spare dye, stuff like that."

Silas paled. "I can't accept your money."

Saige frowned at him. "You'd better. You never know when you'll need it." Jumping up, she pulled something out of her pocket and handed it to Silas. It was a pair of folded papers. "One of those is the address of the Russian Orthodox church I was telling you about. The other is a letter to give to Father Michael when you see him. He'll be your confessor and then he'll help you get on the plane, and then to the abbey. It's a private plane for Russian Orthodox use—normally it's used by the Patriach, but he got a new one, so the European Parish got it. No one will spot you."

The monk was amazed by the lengths that Saige had gone to. "Thank you."

She shrugged. "It's nothing." The young woman looked up at him. "I'll miss you. These last two months were fun." Standing up, she glanced at the clock. Five twenty-two. "You had better leave now, before anyone else sees you. Noah will be upset that he didn't get to see you go, but he said goodbye yesterday."

They walked to the door, and Saige held it open. "Just go down the hall and take the elevator. This building is supposedly abandoned, so go out the back. No one needs to know that someone lives here."

Silas paused just outside the door, wracking his brain for something to say. Just as he opened his mouth, Saige leaned forward and kissed him on the cheeks three times—a common gesture in Russian culture. "Good luck," she said, and shut the door.

The albino continued to stare at the door for several more moments. Saige's gesture was common in her culture, but Silas had a feeling that to her, it meant much, much more.

* * *

As Silas climbed off the bus, pulling his hood farther over his face, the monk spotted the small building on the corner—the church. Looking both ways, he hurried across the wide square and slipped into the church.

Almost immediately, the thick heavy smell of incense and smoke assaulted Silas's senses. Candles burned in every corner, and icons stared down at him. A bas relief of Jesus Christ looked down on him from the ceiling as he made his way to the altar. A young man was standing there, blowing out several candles. He was wearing a black priest's cassock, and had long hair and a beard. He turned when he heard Silas behind him and smiled. "You must be Silas."

The albino froze, and Father Michael smiled. "Saige called and told me you were coming." He held out his hand. "You have a letter for me?" Wordlessly, Silas handed his the note, and Father Michael read it over before stowing it in a pocket. "Come with me."

Glancing around once more to make sure they were alone, Silas followed the priest to a small pulpit in the corner, on which lay a Bible and an icon. Father Michael cleared his throat. "Saige warned me that your case would be....unusual, but please, tell me everything."

And he did. Father Michael stood in silence as Silas told him his life story, mentioning even the sins that Bishop Aringarosa had already absolved—just in case. Minutes later, when he was done, the priest put a hand on his bowed head and murmured a prayer. "We're done. Thank you very much for telling me; your sins are absolved."

Silas smiled, but blinked in surprise as Father Michael headed for the door. "Come," he said, "We need to get you to Zurich."

* * *

REVIEW DAMNIT!

_Kit &_ Violet


	8. Chapter 8

_Dun, dun, dun!_

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

* * *

The plane was enormous, a giant lying in wait on the empty field. Silas watched blindly as it took off, the city disappearing far beneath it. Father Michael sat on the other side, looking at the monk with concern. "Will you miss her?"

Silas jerked in surprise. "What?"

"Saige," Father Michael elaborated. "Will you miss her?"

"Of course! I owe her my life!" Silas blushed at his outburst. Father Michael smiled knowingly, but didn't say anything more, leaving the monk confused.

* * *

Saige sat in her room, watching the rain pour from the windows she habitually kept shut. _People never know if something is alive unless it gives people reason to believe that it is._ Her grandmother had taught her that when she showed her the basics of exorcising demons—there was no way to catch them unless you knew they were there. Saige supposed the quote applied to living in abandoned buildings as well.

A knock on her door startled her, and she hurried down the stairs, wondering who is could be. Noah was at the library down the street—he had just called moments earlier. It couldn't be a client either, she realized as it she walked down the hallway; the banging was calm, not frantic.

Her heart paused in her throat. Could it be Silas? Could something have happened? Or could he have just wanted to come back?

To say the exorcist was surprised to see Father Michael was an immense understatement. "Father, is everything alright? Where is Silas—did he make it alright? Has something happened?!"

The priest held up a hand to silence the normally stoic girl. "Silas is fine, Saige. I just got off the flight back from Zurich. The Abbot was waiting for us at the airport—Silas is fine."

Saige sighed in relief, and led the priest over to the couch, sitting down across from him. Father Michael looked at her for a moment, and then asked, "Why did you take Silas in?"

The girl laughed. "If only I knew. I guess because he needed my help."

"No, no, no," the priest said, smiling, "I won't let you get away with any mind games on me! That is why you rescued him, not why you took him in."

She sighed. "I took him in because he reminded me of Noah—so innocent and so confused. And—I don't know—there was something about him that reminded him of me." Saige looked up at the priest. "You know I was raised Opus Dei, right?"

Father Michael was silent for a long while, and then he smiled. "I think you mean more to him than you realize, Saige."

"What do you mean?" Saige frowned. "I would certainly hope I mean something to him, seeing as how I helped him. Silas isn't heartless, Father."

But he wouldn't say anymore. With an excuse about church, and hasty good-bye's, Father Michael was gone before Saige could blink.

* * *

Silas looked up from the computer screen and rubbed his eyes, stretching his shoulders. He glanced at the notes he had written and winced at the number of mistakes—it was only his second week of learning how to type. He had been at the monastery for a month, and while he was given the job of book-keeping, the Abbot had made sure he was studying at the nearby university, and with the brothers.

And yet, for some reason Silas felt strange. Lonely—depressed even. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

Suddenly, the door to the library creaked open and a young man stuck his head in. "Brother Silas? There's a problem with the supplies—they're asking for you."

Confused, Silas stood and followed the teen into the chaos that was outside. Several wagons—popular method of transportation in this small town—stood outside, and one vendor was arguing with Brother Arthur. Tentatively, Silas stepped forward. "You sent for me?"

The vendor looked him up and down, exasperated. "Are you Silas?"

"Yes."

The man grinned. "Good! Thought I was going to have to march into the monastery myself. You got a package!" Without a word, he tossed the albino a package wrapped in brown paper, and then, as if nothing had happened, he went back to unloading bags of grain.

Surprised, Silas opened the package as he walked back into the monastery, peeling away the layers of brown paper to reveal an icon of a saint. The monk noticed a small chain hanging off the icon, and an inscription on the back. _Saint Silas the martyr, 1__st__ century,_ it read. As Silas picked up the necklace, he noticed a folded-up piece of paper. Looking up long enough to let himself into the library, the man opened the letter. Scanning the signature, he saw it was from Saige.

_Dear Silas,_

_How are you? The loft is lonely without you—Noah asks for you every day. It seems our father is gone, and I have you to thank for it. _

_How are things at the monastery? Father Michael says the Abbot told him you settled well, and I'm glad. It's good to know you're finally happy, and away from Opus Dei. I hope you are getting along well with the other monks; since I am not allowed to see for myself! I hope you like the icon—he looks like you! _

_I can't really think of anything to say besides that I wish you well, and that Noah says hello, and that—Live your life the way you want to, for me._

_With love,_

_Saige _

Silas squinted at the scribbled-out writing, trying to figure out what she had written. With a burst of satisfaction, he figured it out.

_I can't really think of anything to say besides that I wish you well, and that Noah wishes you well, and that I wish you'd come home. Live your life the way you want to, for me._

_With love, _

_Saige_

Silas smiled and tucked the letter into his habit, slipping the icon over his neck, where it hung next to the cross. A pang of loss hit him suddenly, and he began to wonder how Saige was doing, and how she had gotten the package to him. Was the merchant one of her friends? Perhaps a grateful client?

Shrugging and knowing very well that he would probably never get the answers to his questions, Silas sat back down and started to type. Computer skills didn't learn themselves.

* * *

Two weeks after he received Saige's package, Silas was kneeling in one of the pews on the church, his head bent in prayer. It had become harder and harder to concentrate on his work, and the Abbot had commented that he seemed distant during Confession and other activities. The reason why was as much a mystery to him as it was to the other monks, and Silas had tried to be more involved—it was harder than it first seemed.

What was wrong with him, he wondered. Was he losing God? Suddenly, life as a monk wasn't as appealing anymore, even though it was the only life he had ever known—aside from his two months at Saige's home. Even then, he had still prayed, following his rigorous teachings; excluding only corporal mortification.

As he prayed, the albino heard commotion in the hallway outside the church. Scuffling of some sort and shouting. Pushing it from his mind, Silas continued to pray.

But the noise grew ever louder and closer. More people were shouting now, and Silas could make out the voices of several monks he recognized. There was another voice too—it was younger and louder. More panicked, Silas realized. Something was wrong.

He stood and was about to head for the hallway, when the doors to the church burst open. To Silas's immense surprise, Noah ran into the church—stopping to cross himself at the threshold—and grabbed onto his habit, panting for breath. Several monks ran in after him. "Silas!" one of them demanded, "Do you know this hooligan?"

Stunned into silence, the albino nodded. He crouched down to Noah's level and asked, "Noah, what happened? How did you get to _Switzerland_?"

It took the boy a few moments to regain his breath, but then his voice was shaken and scared. ""Papa got Saige, you've got to help her!"

* * *

_Kit_


	9. Chapter 9

_Guess what? I'm finally done with our __Hellboy__ fics!_

Which means what, Kit?

_I'll tell you what, Vi! It's mean we can start working on this! There's a huge convoluted plot to this, so hang on!! As for this chapter, we just love messing with you guys!_

Cliffie alert!

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

* * *

Silas sat next to Noah's bed in the infirmary as several men bustled around him. After delivering his message, the boy had passed out, and had been out of commission for several hours. During that time, Silas's mind had been whirled to the point of a migraine. Saige's father had her? When had this happened? How? The monk gritted his teeth; he knew he shouldn't have left!

"Silas."

The man looked up to see the Abbot standing in the doorway, beckoning him over. As Silas joined him in the hall, the old man sighed. "It has come to my attention that that young man told you one of your friends is in danger. Is this true?"

"Yes, Father."

"Can this boy be trusted?" the Abbot asked, his face unreadable.

Silas nodded. "Yes. My friend is his sister; she saved both of our lives."

The old man was silent for a long while, and Silas wondered how he would phrase his next question. He _had_ to help Saige, but leaving the abbey was forbidden. Would the Abbot even let him—

"I think that you should go help her."

The albino blinked in surprise. "What?"

The Abbot smiled—he had caught the young man by surprise. "You own her your life, do you not? So go help her." He sighed. "You've been caged much too long."

Speechless, Silas nodded. "Thank you, Father."

"You are welcome. Now, it seems as though your young friend is waking up." Silas glanced back at Noah, and with another murmured thanks to the Abbot, the monk hurried over to the boy.

Noah shook his head sleepily as he came to, and then he bolted upright. "Saige—is she—we gotta help her!"

Silas put a calming hand on his shoulder. "Noah, breathe, please. What happened to Saige? How did her father get her?"

The boy sucked in a deep breath. "He and some of his friends came and grabbed her—but I got away. I hitched a ride in the back of a van from one of Saige's friends, and came to find you. You have to help her!" he ended frantically.

"Noah, I will. I promise." Silas swallowed thickly—if there was anything left to save. "You need to rest—in an hour, we'll leave, okay?" The boy nodded and Silas rushed to his room to pack. The icon swung from his neck as he bent over, and Silas packed faster.

_Saige._

* * *

Eleven days later, Silas and Noah were crouched in a bookstore across the street from a café, watching two of its patrons. Silas squirmed nervously every time someone glanced at him, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt farther over his face.

Saige and her father sat at the café, laughing, but Silas knew the girl's smile was fake—even with her dye, her face was pale. Her fists were clenched and her eyes wandered wildly, looking for a way out. After a half an hour more, the two stood and walked back to Saige's home; after waiting several minutes, Silas and Noah followed.

* * *

Ten minutes later, the two were standing in front of door to Saige's loft, Noah peering into the lock. "This'll be easy." Grabbing a couple of rods from the ledge above the door, Noah twisted them into the lock, hearing it click open in a few seconds. Silas watched with appreciation.

No one was in the main room, but low murmuring came from the icon room. Sneaking in to the hallway, Silas suddenly realized how stupid he was—no gun, no plan, no backup. The old Silas would never have done something like this. What was he going to do?

A cold tube of metal pressed against the back of his head told him that he didn't have time to dwell. Glancing at Noah, he realized that it had been a trap. "Up you go," the man behind them said, pushing the door open and shoving them in.

As he stumbled in, Silas glanced around and his jaw dropped.

Bishop Aringarosa looked up in surprise. _"Silas?"_

* * *

REVIEW DAMNIT!

_Kit &_ Violet


	10. Chapter 10

_(Giggles) I can't wait until we get a few more chapters in!_

Kit has SUCH a surprise for one of our amazing reviews!

_And Dessdemondra, your character will be coming in in the next..........well, soon. I don't know how many chapters away, but she's coming!_

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

* * *

The monk's mind whirled—wasn't the Bishop dead? He had shot him himself, hadn't he? But lo and behold, Aringarosa was standing in front of him, joy on his face. "My child, I thought you were dead!" He gestured to Saige, who had her hands held behind her by her father. "Will you help me save this poor girl from the demon that possesses her?"

"Saige isn't possessed." Silas said slowly, carefully. Unnoticed, Noah had slipped around Aringarosa, moving towards something only he had in mind.

Aringarosa smiled calmly. "Do you think a mortal could actually perform these works of God? No, it is a demon inside of her, killing its own kind."

He looked at Saige, who glowered back. "A demon that appears to be stronger than you, no? First the exorcism, then this damned cilice, but still no luck. Third time must be the charm, Bishop." Her smirk was wiped off her face as her father harshly yanked her cilice. Saige choked, her eyes wide.

If Silas was going to answer, he wouldn't have had the chance anyway. With a whoop, Noah snatched up a bottle of holy water, shouting, "Come and get it!" Momentarily distracted, Saige's father crumbled to the ground as the exorcist swung her foot back, catching him in the groin. As Noah doubled back to the door—the bottle still in his hands— Silas grabbed Saige's hand and pulled her out of the loft and down the elevator.

* * *

When they reached the streets, Saige took the lead, taking them down winding alleys, doubling back and taking new routes occasionally until they reached a modern, large-ish townhouse. Knocking on the door, Silas looked Saige over. She hadn't said anything, trying to regain her breath from the cilice barbs in her neck, but otherwise she seemed fine.

She flashed him a smile as the door opened, revealing Father Michael. Without a word, he let them in, scanning the streets and then closing the door behind them.

* * *

The next morning, after receiving Father Michael's many blessings, Saige, Silas and Noah hitched a ride on a bus to the outskirts of London. From there, Saige led them into a small patch of trees, in the middle of which sat a small cottage. Noah looked surprised, and Saige explained, "Aunt Nadia's summer cottage. She's in Aruba, so I doubt that she'll be using it." Fishing the key out from under the mat, she let them in.

As Noah went off to explore, Saige turned to Silas. "I don't know how to thank you. You saved my life."

Silas had the insane urge to hug her and make sure she was alright. "You saved mine."

Saige smiled and started to say something else, but all that came out was a choked gasp. She frowned and tried again, but this time a stream of blood trickled down her chin. Silas started to ask what was wrong, but he barely had time to catch her before she hit the ground, out cold.

* * *

Silas hurried down the street with Noah at his side, wincing whenever someone met his eyes. He had clumsily put on the dyes that Saige had brought with them to the cottage, and he could tell that something was off about it. Saige was balanced on his back, her arms wrapped around his neck. The minute she had collapsed, Noah had insisted they go to the hospital—they had spent a _long_ bus ride praying that no one would stop and question them.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, and Silas had been relieved of his charge, a doctor turned to him and Noah. Spotting the albino's face, he paused. "Sir, is everything alright with your face?"

Silas faltered, and Noah filled in smoothly. "He was sunburned, and our doctor prescribed medication. His skin is just starting to peel."

The doctor blinked; he hadn't noticed the boy. "Oh." His eyes narrowed. "And you two are?"

Noah pointed to himself and then to Silas. "I'm her little brother, and this is her fiancé, Simon."

Silas nodded in agreement and then froze. Her _fiancé_?! He was a man of the church! Silas paused; he was a man of the church, and somehow, he wasn't as disturbed by Noah's statement as he should have been. He opened his mouth to clarify that he was anything but Saige's fiancé, but the little boy silenced him with a sharp glance.

The doctor nodded, and consulted his clipboard. "And you say this has never happened to your sister? Not when you were younger?" "

"No sir."

He shrugged. "Well then, we'll just take a look-see to make sure everything is where it's supposed to be, and then you'll be on your way." With a gesture, two orderlies swooped over and ushered them into the hallway. As Silas walked out, he crashed into a nurse carrying a cup of water. The water spilled all over his face and hands. "Oh!" the nurse cried, "I'm so sorry, sir! Here, let me get you a towel!"

As she ran off, one of the TV's in the waiting room began broadcasting the news. Silas's picture flashed on the screen. "We are still looking for this man, who is suspected to be responsible for the deaths of several Kent police officers." The albino quickly looked away as the doctor came in.

"It seems the chain around her neck is barbed—some sort of trauma pushed the barbs into her trachea. Unfortunately, we can't remove the chain without causing severe damage, but with a few days rest and medication, she'll be as good as....." His eyes narrowed, and he looked at Silas. "Is something wrong, sir?"

Noah looked horrified, and Silas glanced at his reflection in the one-way glass. Apparently, it wasn't just water that the nurse was carrying—whatever it was had begun to wash away the dye. The doctor looked up at the TV screen and then back at him. "Hey, he's—"

Silas didn't hear what he said next. The man snatched up Noah and ran out of the hospital, leaving Saige behind.

* * *

Silas ducked as Noah pulled a bag out of the closet and threw it over the albino's head. He looked at the contents of the bag as Noah hauled another one out of the closet—it was full of wigs and makeup. "Why does Saige have all this?"

Noah looked at him as he lifted a suitcase onto the bed. "Why do you think? Before she started exorcising for a living, Saige was a thief, and a good one too. Always was. She could steal the clothes off your back and you wouldn't notice a thing. She did it once too, when I was little." He threw a wig and a small stick-on goatee at him. "And since we have to go get Saige, _and_ because you can't go back there looking like yourself, you'll have to look like someone else."

Hesitantly, Silas pulled the wig over his hair, and winced at the beard stuck to his chin. "Are you sure this will work?"

Noah rolled his eyes as he handed him the dye. "Do you have any better ideas?"

* * *

Silas held his breath as they stepped into the hospital once more, keeping his eyes on the ground. No one looked at him twice as Noah went up to the doctor they had seen not two days ago, asking for his sister. "I had no idea Simon was a criminal!" he was saying, "This time I brought my uncle with me."

The doctor smiled at him and checked his roster. "I'm sorry to say that your sister has already checked out."

Noah and Silas exchanged nervous glances. "What?" Silas asked.

"Yes. A bishop came to check her out an hour ago. He said she was a nun in his church."

"What did he look like?"

The doctor shook his head. "I didn't see him—one of the orderlies did. But he said his name was Manuel Aringarosa."

Noah shot a scared glance at Silas, but then plastered on a fake smile and turned to the doctor. "Do you mind if we use your phone?"

"Of course not. It's by the desk—just press nine before you dial the number."

Silas stood numbly as Noah dialed someone. Bishop Aringarosa had Saige. The man who had given him a new life was trying to kill the woman who saved him from a lie. He turned to Noah, who smiled as the person on the other end picked up. "Hello? Father Michael? This is Noah. Can we borrow your plane?"

* * *

An hour later, Father Michael was seeing them off before the plane took them to Spain. "I'm sorry for imposing on you," Silas apologized again, "The pilot must hate us."

The priest smiled and shook his head. "No—he needs the practice. It's not often that we have to use the plane—we are so few here in Britain. It is usually in Belarus or Ukraine." He paused and said solemnly, "Good luck, Silas."

"Thank you, Father."

* * *

REVIEW DAMNIT!

_Kit &_ Violet


	11. Chapter 11

Just a nice cliffie to bide you guys until tomorrow!

_We have it prewritten for the next four or five chapters, so we'll be posting them daily/every other day._

If you thought the story was messed up before!!

_I seriously can't wait for you guys to read it! It was so much fun to write, and a certain reviewer gets a very nice surprise._

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

* * *

Finding the old church was easier than Silas had thought it would be. Getting in, however, was the problem—the doors and windows were bolted shut—and Silas spotted the Opus Dei numeraries all crowding one of the doors. He paused, wondering if he should ask, but Noah had already sauntered up to them. "What's goin' on?"

One of the numeraries glanced at him. "Bishop Aringarosa told us all to get out," she told him, "He said that he had to conduct something privately."

"In the whole church?"

She eyed his suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?" Noah shrugged and ambled back to Silas, hissing as he walked up, "Saige is in there."

Silas nodded and tried to remember where the other entrances were—ones that Aringarosa might have forgotten about. And suddenly it came to him; the basement. There were window right on the ground, and they opened with a latch. But it was hot out, and so they would be open. "The basement," he murmured, "We can get in through those windows."

Noah grinned, but instead of going to the windows, he ran over to the policeman—who was eyeing the numeraries with suspicion—jostling him as he ran by. The man swore after him, and in seconds Noah had doubled back and produced a pistol. "Figured we should go in with some firepower of our own this time."

Sheepish, Silas realized he hadn't thought of that, but he quickly led the way to the windows, pushing one open and slipping through. Seconds later, Noah joined him and they made their way up the stairs and into the chapel. The door was ajar, and Silas gasped when he saw what was inside.

No one was inside but Saige and Aringarosa. Thick heavy chains that Silas had never seen in the church before chained Saige's wrists to the ground. As a precaution, her arms were bound just below the shoulders and her feet were wrapped with duct tape. Bishop Aringarosa stood above her, lighting one of the hundred of candles that glowed everywhere. Turning carefully to avoid knocking over one of the candles on the ground, Aringarosa looked at Saige. "Soon, my child, you will be safe."

"From what?" she snapped, "You?"

Noah clenched his fists and Silas looked at him. "Stay here." The boy started to protest, but a look from Silas grounded him where he was. The albino stepped out from behind the door and cocked the hammer of the gun, pointing it at the bishop. "Don't move."

Bishop Aringrosa looked sorrowful, but not scared. He looked at Saige. "What have you done to him?" Turning to Silas, he said, "My child, you have been seduced by a demon. You had no idea—God will still forgive you if you absolve your sins right now and help me cleanse this young woman. This is your last chance for salvation, Silas."

As Silas froze, and Aringarosa's eyes settled on him, Saige lashed out, knocking over a dozen candles. Immediately, the fire roared to life, smoke rising in acrid gusts. "Silas!" Noah screamed from the other side of the chapel, "Hurry!"

Smoke had blocked his view of both Saige and Aringarosa, and Silas knew he couldn't save them both. It was only a matter of time before the fire reached the canisters of holy oil. Despite the fact that he knew he had been lied to, Silas knew that he would have died if Bishop Aringarosa hadn't saved him. And Saige.....

The smoke grew thicker and Silas heard people's voices shouting from outside. Throwing himself into the smoke, Silas coughed as he dropped to his knees, stretching his hands out in front of him. His fingers caught on a metal ring, and he looked up to Saige. "What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded, "Get the hell out of here, Silas! Grab Aringarosa and go!"

She gave him a hard kick that sent him propelling deeper into the smoke and into something hard. Turning, the albino realized it was the bishop. Grabbing the older man by his collar, Silas looked wildly around for some sign of Saige, but she was gone in the smoke. Pulling Bishop Aringarosa to his feet, the two men burst out of the church just as the fire reached the oil and the walls began to crumble from the heat.

Dropping the priest, Silas looked around for Noah, finding him waiting in the alley. Without a second glance, Silas ran toward him, into the alley and out of sight.

* * *

_REVIEW DAMNIT!!_

_Kit &_ Violet


	12. Chapter 12

_Sorry it's short, but we're in a rush!_

REVIEW DAMNIT! Or we'll hold out til September!

_Which reminds me....summer's almost over....maybe we should finally update that other story we were holding out on._

_Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual_

* * *

"Do you think she made it?"

Silas looked up at Noah, who was sitting with his knees curled up to his chest. They were up in Saige's bedroom—the minute they arrived back in London two days ago, Noah ran up the stairs and refused to come down. Silas was at a loss about what to do. He sighed. "I don't know, Noah."

"But she had to have made it, right?" the boy asked. "I mean, she's Saige! She's my big sister—she has to be okay, right Silas?"

_Even Saige can't survive a collapsing, burning building, _Silas thought numbly as he shook his head. "I don't know, Noah."

"But she—"

"We both saw the smoke clear, Noah!" Silas snapped, "She wasn't there!" The boy recoiled and Silas instantly regretted lashing out. "Noah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

Noah shrugged. "S'okay." Sliding off the bed—still wrapped in Saige's blanket—Noah hesitated at the top of the stairs, but then he hurried down. Surprised, Silas followed him, finding the boy sitting on the couch, flicking the TV on. With a sigh, the albino crossed over to the cabinets, intent on making some tea.

"Silas!"

He turned, looking at the boy. "Noah? What's wrong?"

Noah didn't take his eyes off the screen, but he turned up the volume—it was the news. "In further news," the anchorwoman was saying, "the mysterious young woman who appeared at the Princess Grace Hospital in London with severe lung damage has shown signs of improvement. Kent police are still investigating what could have caused her horrendous accident, and whether or not there was any foul play involved."

Noah turned to Silas. "You don't think it's......."

Silas's response was to grab the keys and rush out the door.

* * *

Only when they were too far away to turn back did Silas realized how stupid it was to leave the house without dyes. Luckily, Noah had grabbed a hat, and they had snitched a face mask—one that covered his nose and mouth—from a construction site where they were using some sort of chemicals. Silas pulled his trench coat tighter around him as the bus driver glanced them over as they climbed in.

After the nerve-racking bus ride came to a stop, and Silas all but ran from the bus. Bursting into the hospital and muttering something about a cold, he searched for a nurse to interrogate.

Noah beat him to it. "Um, ma'am, could you tell us which room that girl on the news is? I think that might be my sister."

The woman smiled good-naturedly. "She already checked out. Said she was twenty-four and that we'd be damned to try and keep her. I reckon she went home."

Silas and Noah exchanged looks, and ran out of the hospital faster than the woman could blink.

* * *

Saige sat up and reached for the gun under the couch cushions as the doorknob rattled. Standing shakily, she hid in the hall as the door creaked open. As the footsteps came past the kitchen, she whirled out, pointing the gun. Seconds later, she dropped it. "Silas!"

"Saige!"

Before his mind could connect to his body and shout that it was a _bad idea_, Silas had wrapped his arms around Saige and pulled her close. The girl instantly stiffened in surprise, and Silas dropped her and jerked away, his face red. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know w-what came over me, and—"

Saige cut him off by hugging him again, this time relaxing against him. "Thank you," she murmured into his shirt. Pulling away from the surprised and embarrassed monk, Saige looked down. "And I'm sorry for dragging you away from the monastery. I'll pull a few favors, and see if I can get you back there before the police—"

"Absolutely not," Silas said firmly. "I am staying with you."

"Please, you don't have to. It would be a bother—"

"Saige," Silas said, cutting off the rambling albino, "I want to stay."

She blinked, stunned, and started to say something, but Noah cut between them. The ten-year-old was sitting on the couch, watching the news. Turning up the volume, he pointed at the screen.

"The young woman who checked into the Princess Grace Hospital several days early with severe lung damage is now the target of a country-wide manhunt, as the suspect in the attempted murder of Bishop Manuel Aringarosa and the murder of Yevgeni Artemiev."

Turning the TV off, Noah asked, "Dad is dead?" He seemed more happy than upset.

Saige shrugged, coughing lightly. "This calls for champagne!"

* * *

_*grins* It only gets worse!_

_Kit &_ Violet


	13. Chapter 13

_Yeah, we're posting often, but that's because we have 47 more pages of the story already prewritten and we're sick of writing it. _

But, we will hold off if you guys don't REVIEW!

_Oh, and in this chapter, we have a surprise for one of our dear reviewers, **KATE**!_

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: We own nothing but the plot, Saige/Sasha/Amora, Noah/Marsh-Brat, Creeper, Tiny, Father Michael/Bible, and Marie (whose other name isn't put on here til next chapter, due to the surprise!)**_

* * *

"Aren't you upset that your father is dead?"

Saige glanced at him as she sat down on the couch, just back from putting Noah to sleep. "As a person, or as my father?"

"Both," Silas clarified.

"Neither," Saige answered, without missing a beat. A moment later, she explained, "He never was much of a father, and I'm glad to know that there's one less person like him walking around." She smiled. "When I meet the man who killed him, I'll have to give him flowers, I suppose."

Silas paused to think about that, and then asked, "But you didn't try to kill Bishop Aringarosa, did you?"

Something—hurt?—flashed in Saige's eyes, but she shrugged offhandedly. "When? When I was catching a plane to London, barely able to breathe? I hadn't seen him since you dragged him out of the church."

Almost immediately, Silas regretted asking. He started to apologize, but a loud ringing from the kitchen cut him off—the phone. Saige shrugged again. "I'm not picking up—what kind of idiot calls this late?"

The phone beeped as the caller left a message. "Sasha Artemieva, pick up the damn phone! I know you're in there!" an angry female voice—with a decidedly French accent—snapped. "Don't make me call your cell, damnit! You don't have time!"

Her eyes wide, Saige jumped up and hit the speaker on the phone. "_Igbogal?_ Why the hell are you—"

"Sasha? Damnit! Now's not the time! You've got hordes of cops headed for your loft _right now_—someone tipped them off! Get to the St. Katherine's Docks, now! Creeper and Tiny'll meet you there and get you to the Dolphin! Move! I'll call Bible and tell him you're leaving—he's got all your stuff, right?!" Igbogal hung up and the line went dead.

There was a second of silence and then both Saige and Silas burst into action. Saige bolted for her room, shouting Noah's name. Silas ran to his room and grabbed the bag he had brought from the abbey—now he was thankful he hadn't unpacked it yet. As he ran back into the living room, he saw Saige and Noah in the kitchen, filling already-full backpacks with food. Saige glanced at him. "We were already prepared."

Curious, Silas glanced into the icon room and the room where Saige did her exorcisms. Both were completely empty. Saige shouted from the living room, "Father Michael took everything while you were at the abbey!"

Minutes later, Silas, Saige and Noah had burst out the back door of the building, flagging down a cab. As they drove off, Silas saw the lights turn on in the icon room, the curtains pulled apart—they had just barely escaped.

Noah—who, up to this point, was absolutely out of the loop—demanded, "What's goin' on? Where are we going?"

Saige glanced out the rear windshield at her loft, then sighed and turned back to Noah. With a glance at the cabby, she whispered, "Igbogal called and warned us about the cops. Creeper and Tiny are meeting us at the docks, and they'll take us to the Dolphin."

Noah's eyes widened. "So that's why all your stuff is gone! You knew about the cops!"

The cabby glanced back at them in surprise, and Silas reached forward and slammed the separator shut. Noah flushed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to shout."

Saige nodded. "I knew about the cops, I just didn't know when."

"Where's your stuff?"

"Bible has it." Saige glanced at Silas, who was sitting between the siblings, absolutely perplexed. Laughing, the exorcist said, "You must think we're going crazy, don't you, Silas?"

The monk nodded. "I'm getting there. Who are all these people you're talking about?"

"Friends," Saige explained, "We're all in trouble one way or another, so we don't use each other's names."

Silas frowned. "So your codename is Sasha?"

Saige shook her head. "No. Igbogal only uses my real name when she's really mad or really worried. Sasha was my birth name, but everyone called me Saige since I was little."

Silas nodded. "Oh. But you said Father Michael had your things, and you told Noah that a person named Bible took them........" he trailed off, realization hitting. His eyebrows furrowed together. "Father Michael is in trouble?"

"Something like that." Nudging Noah, who had begun to doze off, Saige pointed out the window. "We're here."

* * *

After grabbing their bags and paying the cabby, Saige led them down the winding pathways of the docks, finally stopping in front of a large boat, the name _Amora_ emblazoned on the side. Saige flushed when she saw the name, but suddenly her eyes hardened and she whirled around, knife in hand. Silas stepped in front of Noah and eyed the boats.

"Peace, Saige, it's just me." Father Michael stepped out from behind a stack of crates, looking ridiculously normal in jeans and a sweater.

Silas frowned. "You're Bible."

Father Michael's eyes widened, and he looked at Saige. "He knows?"

Saige nodded. "Yeah. Igbogal called and warned us about the cops. I had to tell him."

"She called me as well. I have your icons and things."

"Thanks." Saige glanced around. "So where are Creeper and Tiny?"

"Miss us?"

Silas jumped in surprise as a deep voice rumbled behind him. He turned and found himself craning his neck up at an enormous man. Saige smiled warmly. "Tiny. Where's Creeper?"

An elderly man melted out of the shadows and hugged Saige. "It's so good to see you and the Marsh-Brat." He grinned a toothless grin at Noah.

"Hey!" the boy protested playfully. "I'm not a marsh-brat!"

"You're right," Tiny nodded, "You're _the_ Marsh-Brat."

Father Michael laughed, but a sudden noise made him glance over his shoulder. "You three had better get going."

Saige nodded and hugged the priest, then stepped onto the boat, helping Noah. Silas went to follow them, but froze as a knife was pressed to his throat. Tiny glared down at him and asked Saige, "Can we trust this guy?"

"He saved my life."

Instantly, the knife was gone and a thick hand clapped him on the back. Tiny grinned down at him and gestured to the boat. "Welcome aboard the _Amora_! Enjoy your trip!"

"Where are we going?" Silas asked.

"America!" Creeper answered, "You're going to see the Dolphin!"

"You're taking us to _America_?" Silas asked again, shocked.

Creeper shook his head as he finished his good-byes to Father Michael. "No. We're taking you three across the English Channel, stocking up in France, and then we're going across the Bay of Biscay to Portugal. The Timekeeper'll take you to New York."

Saige looked up from helping Noah tie his shoelaces. "The Timekeeper is still alive?" she asked in mock surprise.

Creeper laughed. "Of course! That old crone's too tough for Death!" With another harsh laugh, the boat roared to life. Silas lurched as they sped off, Father Michael and the docks shrinking away.

Tiny clapped a hand on Saige's shoulder as she unpacked. "So, how's the boat? A beauty, isn't she?"

Even in the dim lights from the boat, Silas could see Saige blushing. "I cannot _believe_ you named your boat the _Amora_."

"What's wrong with Amora?" Silas asked her.

Saige's blush deepened and Tiny laughed—a loud and deep sound. "She didn't tell you? Saige's codename is Amora."

Silas blinked. _"Oh."_

* * *

REVIEW DAMNIT!

_Enjoy, Kate!_

_Kit & _Violet


	14. Chapter 14

Hey guys!

_Just a heads-up, we won't be able to post as often, because we're trying to lose our Star Wars virginity. We're like the only two people on the planet who haven't seen the movies._

So far we've seen Episode IV, and are twenty minutes into Episode V.

_And our friend asked us to write a SW fanfic, so that really screws up our order of fics we need to write........._

We're never gonna get back into the Hellboy fandom at this rate!

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

* * *

Silas woke up as something cold and wet soaked his head. Seconds later, and elderly voice shouted from somewhere to his right. "Better be careful! Waves are coming up high on the starboard side!"

_Starboard? But starboard is for ships! _Silas's eyes snapped open as memories came flooding back—running late last night to the docks, taking off across the English Chanel, falling asleep against the side of the boat. Groaning as he stood and his muscles stretched, Silas spotted Saige standing on the other side of the boat, leaning on the railing and watching the sun rise.

Carefully crossing over to her, Silas smiled. "Any chance this is all some sort of crazy dream?"

Saige smiled back. "I doubt it." Looking back across the water, she frowned. "I'm sorry I got you involved in this, Silas. I ran from the police; now they're after you too."

"They were already after me," Silas pointed out. "And besides, it's partly my fault."

The exorcist looked at him. "Your fault? None of this is your fault!" Across the boat someone laughed, and Saige glanced at them. Creeper and Noah were playing dominoes—the old man had just lost.

"So, how did you all meet?"

Saige jumped in surprise, not expecting Silas's question. "We all have one thing in common; we all heard God. You already know Father Michael, but Thomas—Tiny—is a priest too," she chuckled as Silas's jaw dropped, "and Creeper—his real name is Hector, by the way—and his wife, the Timekeeper, are both healers; they use holy water. Igbogal—Marie—and I are exorcists. Lone Star, the Poet and Portrait are prophets. I guess it was God's will we all came together."

"I had no idea there were so many of you in Russia," Silas commented as the sun rose higher.

"Actually, Noah and I are the only ones from Russia—Father Michael is British. Hector and the Timekeeper are from Portugal, and Thomas is from America—so are the Dolphin and Lone Star. Marie and Portrait are from France, and the Poet is from Ireland. We all met....." she paused, her brows furrowed. "Well, I don't remember _where_ we met, but we all lived together for a while, before we had to split up."

"Wave!" Creeper's voice cut through the salty air. Before Silas could ask what that meant, the boat pitched and Saige lost her balance, falling back. Almost instinctively, Silas grabbed her and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Haha, gotcha!" A bright flash startled the two albinos, and Noah grinned up at them from behind a camera. "I'm showing _that_ to the Dolphin!"

"Noah, you little brat," Saige started good-naturedly, taking off after him. "When I get you—"

Silas caught her arm just before she ran off. He whispered in her ear, making Noah arch an eyebrow. "Please, don't strain yourself—you just returned from the hospital." Saige looked back at him, surprised, but smiled and nodded before taking off after Noah.

"Amora's a beauty, isn't she?"

Silas glanced up at Tiny, who had walked up to him. The monk avoided his gaze. "Are you talking about the boat or the girl, Tiny?"

"Call me Tom." The giant grinned down at him, "Which one are _you_ talkin' about?"

The monk stared at the water. "The boat, of course. Did you build it by hand?"

Tom ignored his question. "You know, Amora likes you. The last guy who _tried_ to get this close to her......." the priest trailed off and laughed. "Well, he ain't a _he_ anymore. Amora took care of that."

Silas frowned up at the man. "I am a monk, Tom. I'm sworn to celibacy."

Tom shrugged and stepped forward, the boat swaying under his weight. As he headed off for the cabin—where Saige was dangling Noah upside-down by his feet and Hector was laughing at both of them—he turned and grinned. "Really? 'Cause Amora told me ya decided not ta be a monk anymore."

* * *

Silas knew there was a problem when the French police were waiting for them at the port. He and Saige were ushered below deck, and Hector and Thomas came onto shore to greet the police. From their hiding spot, Silas could faintly hear the conversation.

"Reason for docking?" One of the police demanded. He sounded familiar, but Silas couldn't place where.

"Stocking up, sir," Hector answered, "We're on our way 'cross the Bay of Biscay."

"Anyone else on the boat?" another officer asked, this one also sounding familiar.

"No, sir." That was Thomas.

There was a silence for a moment, and then a scuffle. Saige and Silas froze as the noise faded away. Suddenly, the first police officer's voice sounded from right above the stowaways. "Saige Artemieva, if you don't come out right now, I'll plug holes in your friends!"

Instantly, Silas placed the voice—Bezu Fache. As Saige stood up, he grabbed her arm and hissed, "What do you think you're doing?"

Saige looked at him like he was crazy. "Going up."

"You can't!" Saige looked frustrated, and Silas continued. "What makes you so sure they won't shoot you?!"

"I can't let them shoot Hector and Tom!"

"I can't let them shoot you!" The two albinos glared at each other for a moment before Saige broke out of his grip and ran up the ladder before he could stop her. Silas cringed, waiting for the gunfire, but heard none. Quietly, he crept forward, heading for the ladder that led above deck. He climbed out slowly, scanning the deck, and saw that all of the police, Hector, Saige, and Tom were on the other side of the cabin.

Silas hurried silently to the cabin, and saw his golden opportunity. Bezu had backed up against the cabin, aiming his gun at Saige—and the cabin window was open. Silas was directly behind the captain of police.

Skirting the windows, Silas grabbed the gun he kept hidden in his hoodie pocket. In one smooth, swift motion, the monk was behind Bezu, the gun aimed point-blank. "Drop your gun."

Bezu jumped in surprise, and hesitated. Silas pulled the hammer back, his eyes cold. "Do it now!"

As one, the police dropped their weapons. Silas paused, unsure whether or not to shoot him. This man was the one who had made him into a wanted criminal, but at the same time, he was tricked by the Teacher, just like him. But, he had tried to hurt Saige. Silas's finger tightened on the trigger.

"Silas, don't."

Silas froze. Saige was looking directly at him, her expression unreadable. "Silas, please don't shoot him. I thought you were done with that. Was I wrong?"

The monk paused, and while he didn't lower his gun, he slowly nodded. Saige smiled, and she, Hector and Thomas each grabbed a gun that the police had dropped. Saige gestured to the dock. "Off, now." When no one moved, she pulled the hammer back and smiled cheekily at Bezu. "Bezu Fache, if you don't get out right now, I'll plug holes in your officers!"

The officers filed off the boat, and Hector hopped through the cabin window, starting the boat and driving away. Thomas refused to put away his guns until the police were no bigger than ants, and Saige didn't move until Silas came up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Thank you for stopping me."

Saige smiled. "No problem."

Silas sighed and glanced back at the shore. "It's bad that we didn't stock up, isn't it? Fache will have guards all over the coast, and God knows we can't stop in Spain."

The exorcist just grinned at him, and before he could ask why, a pair of wet arms wrapped around his waist from behind. "Gotcha!"

Silas whirled to see a soaking-wet Noah grinning up at him, clutching a waterproof bag of food. The monk laughed and swung Noah up onto his shoulders, shouting, "Victory!"

Saige chuckled. "Someone sounds hungry, don't they?"

Thomas hollered from below deck, "I'm cooking!"

There were three simultaneous shouts of "No!", and Silas glanced at Saige. "I assume Thomas can't cook?"

Saige made a face as she leaned against the railing, her dyed hair blowing in the breeze. "Have you ever licked a bathroom wall?"

"No."

"Well, that's better than Thomas's cooking."

Silas arched an eyebrow. "Have _you_ licked a bathroom wall?" he teased.

Saige shrugged. "Absolutely not, but I'm sure Thomas has. He needs something to compare his cooking to."

"I can hear you, Amora!" the giant hollered from below.

"That's the point!"

"Will all of you shut up before I throw you off my boat?!" Hector demanded playfully from the front. Saige's response was to stick her tongue out, and Silas laughed.

Noah frowned. "So who's going to cook?"

* * *

REVIEW DAMNIT!

_Kit &_ Violet


	15. Chapter 15

_Okay......so we're basically gonna hold off posting 'til September......so enjoy this for the next month._

**_Warnings/Disclaimers: We own nothing but the plot, Doroteia/Dora, Hector, Thomas, Noah, Saige and Gunner._ **

* * *

The port of Braga, Portugal loomed in front of them as Hector maneuvered the boat into a free place. The strange group carefully snuck back the crowds and into the town, finally arriving at a small, pueblo-like house that was squeezed between an old-fashioned clothes shop and a restaurant.

Before Hector could knock, the door swung open to reveal a short old woman. Her long, gray hair was braided behind her and shrewd, intelligent eyes peered from her wrinkled face. Her thin lips curled into a warm smile when she saw Saige and Noah. "Amora, Marsh-Brat." Her eyes raked over Silas, and she scowled. "I don't house criminals."

Hector, Thomas and Noah filed past the old woman, not wanting to be part of the argument. Saige smiled. "But Dorotéia, I allegedly killed my father—doesn't that make me a criminal?"

The Timekeeper's answer was to slam the door shut in their faces.

Silas frowned. "Her name means gift of God." He shrugged. "Strange name for a strange woman."

Saige laughed. "Unfortunately, patience is not a gift God had granted her."

"But fortunately?" Silas pressed.

"But _fortunately_," Saige smiled, "The inability to turn away someone in need is a curse Dora has."

Silas was about to ask the exorcist to elaborate when the door opened again and Dora grumbled, "Get in."

* * *

Silas soon realized why Dora Cardozo was called the Timekeeper—top to bottom, her home was filled with clocks. They were each set with a different time, and Noah whispered in his ear as they sat down for dinner that they were the times from _every_ city in the world. Silas could see no pattern in the way the clocks were arranged, but apparently Dora could. She scowled at one of the clocks and said, "The Dolphin will be picking up Igbogal, Portrait, The Poet and Lone Star from the airport now." She looked at Saige. "They'll be waiting for you."

Silas watched Saige carefully from where she sat across from him—Dora seemed to be intent of placing them as far away from each other as possible. The girl pushed her potatoes around her plate with her fork before putting the utensil down and looking at Dora and Hector. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but this seems to be quite a bit of effort just for a murder charge. I _have_ handled worse."

Tom and Hector exchanged glances and Dora frowned. "Who do you think tipped off the police, Saige?"

"Aringarosa, I assume."

"You assume wrong," Dora told her. There was an uncomfortable silence as Hector cleared his throat and Dora continued. "Bible spotted Gunner several days ago in London. He's the one who told the police where to find you—Igbogal, the Dolphin, Bible and I thought it prudent to get you and Noah out of the country as soon as possible."

Noah paled. There was a flash of both fear and rage in Saige's eyes as her grip tightened on the edge of the table. "Father Michael didn't mention anything," she said slowly, carefully, as if not trusting her voice.

"He thought that if we told you, you would refuse to leave." Hector explained.

"He thought right." Saige glanced at Silas, but then her gaze flickered back to Dora. "I'm sick of running from him, Dora."

"Well he obviously isn't sick of chasing you," Thomas pointed out as he absently stirred his tea. "Especially now that he's heard you killed your father."

"But she didn't!" Noah snapped.

Hector smiled at him. "But Gunner doesn't know that."

Silas looked at Saige, who sat frozen, trembling in rage, and then looked at Dora. "I don't understand. What's going on?"

Dora glared at him and turned to Saige. "Why did you bring him along? No one has proven you killed your father yet, but _he's_ killed eight people—maybe more. He's a liability." Her glare intensified. "Besides, he worked for _Aringarosa_." She said _Aringarosa_ like most people would say _the Antichrist_.

"Because he didn't know any better," Saige snapped back, her eyes flashing, "And the day I stop helping people I care about is the day I turn into someone like Gunner!" She stood. "If you want him to leave, I'll have you know I'm leaving with him." The girl smiled slyly. "And if _I_ leave, we all know I'm going to head straight for Gunner, don't we?"

Hector laughed and Dora scowled. "Sit down. If you really want him to stay....." she trailed off, grumbling to herself in Portuguese.

Saige grinned and smiled at Silas, mouthing, "Victory!"

* * *

Dinner passed without any more incidents, and everyone broke off to their rooms. Dora scowled as she explained at that Saige, Silas and Noah would have to share a room, and Silas was simultaneously pleased and anxious.

As Saige shut the door behind them, she told Noah, "Go brush your teeth. You and Silas can have the bed." The boy nodded and ran off.

Silas blanched. "Absolutely not. I insist you take it!"

Saige smiled. "Thank you, but I'm not going to be sleeping tonight. I have work to do." She pulled a laptop out of her backpack and set it on the desk by the window. As she started it up, Silas cleared his throat. "Why did you vouch for me down there?"

"Why not? I'm not just going to leave you behind because you have cops after you—if I was anything like that, I would have let you bleed to death the first time I met you." Saige shrugged, as if that explained everything.

Silas nodded, still confused, when there was a knock on the door. Thomas poked his head in. "Hey, Amora, is the Marsh-Brat in bed yet?"

Saige shook her head. "Not yet—he's brushing his teeth. Why?"

Thomas glanced at Silas and shrugged. "Not much. Me 'n Creeper need to get some information, and we were wondering if you and Silas could come along as _distractions_."

The exorcist smirked. "Just like old times, right?" She turned to Silas. "Do you want to come with us—I'd understand if you wanted to get some sleep."

Silas shook his head. "I'll go." He paused. "But where are we going?"

"_La Biblioteca."_

The monk blinked in surprise. "The _library_?"

Thomas chuckled and shook his head. "Boy, are you in for it."

Confused, the albino turned to Saige for answers. The girl smiled gently. "Silas, _La Biblioteca_ is a _club_."

* * *

REVIEW DAMNIT!

_Kit &_ Violet


	16. Chapter 16

Okay, so we said we weren't going to post until September, but that was basically 'cause we were pissed that no one was reviewing. But we just figured we should post this as a welcome back to school/college thing.

_We're going to 9th grade tomorrow, so wish us luck._

Kit, as usual, is all in AP classes!

_Not like it's my fault! Anyway, we know that Miley Cyrus's song 'See You Again' only came out in 2007, but one of our friends thought it totally fit the chapter and made us use it. Normally, we barely tolerate Miley Cyrus like the rest of the world._

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

* * *

Silas could _feel_ the music pulsing through the sidewalk as he, Thomas, Hector and Saige made their way out of the alley. And as for the girl who walked next to him—Silas was torn between not being able to look away and not being able to look.

While he was in a hoodie and jeans—Dora had helped him dye his skin and hair—Saige was wearing a strapless white shirt and a long-sleeved black fishnet shirt over it. Her gray skinny jeans looked like they had been spray painted on and Silas was positive her neon blue combat boots could knock the head off a man's shoulders. And while Silas had only dyed his hair red and his skin a few shades darker than Noah's, Saige's hair was a semi-spiky spectrum of silver, black and green, and her pale skin was decorated with swirling purple designs. Her double-pierced ears glittered with flashing studs.

"Well, I'm supposed to be _distracting_, aren't I?" she had asked him when his jaw fell to the floor as she came down the stairs.

A smile from Saige as they reached the door, and the bouncer let them in without a second glance. Thomas grinned at her as the music assaulted their ears. "You don't think the black lipstick was a little much?"

Saige frowned. "Is my definition of _distracting_ somehow different than everyone else's, because I may not have gotten the memo." As they passed under a ceiling light, the silver eyeliner glittered on her narrowed eyes.

Hector laughed. "You looked great!" He put a hand on Saige and Silas's shoulders, and shouted, "Silas should head over to the bar—the one in the back, where you can see the whole club! Saige, pick a man and start dancing; try to get as many people as you can looking at you and moving!"

The exorcist smirked and yelled, "You aren't the only ones looking for this guy for information, are you?!"

Instead of shouting back, Hector shrugged and with a push, he propelled the two of them into the crowd. Despite being a slightly taller than most of the crowd, Silas was swallowed by the movement, buffeted every which way—he could barely see, the flashing lights seemed to be aimed at him.

Suddenly, someone grabbed his hand and pulled him through that crowd. Silas looked down in surprise to see Saige pulling him towards the bar, but she wasn't walking; she was dancing her way through the crowd. "Move with them," she hollered, "It's easier!"

Silas frowned; he didn't dance. But before he could tell her, they were suddenly out of the crowd and at the bar. As Silas sat down, Saige grinned at him. "I'm off to do my job!" She turned and sauntered off into the crowd—in seconds, half the male population was swarming her. Silas's fingers tightened on the bar counter.

"You know, your girlfriend seems to be getting a lot of guys." Silas jumped and turned to face the bartender, who was polishing a glass right behind him. "I'd be pretty pissed if I were you."

The albino shook his head. "She isn't my girlfriend."

The bartender shrugged. "Sorry." Putting the glass down, he asked, "Want something to drink? It's on the house."

Silas shrugged again, and the bartender grinned, setting something in front of him. As he watched Saige draw more and more people onto the dance floor, he absently took a swallow of the drink, wincing as the alcohol burned his throat—in the past ten years, the strongest spirits he'd had were communion wine. Suddenly, the music changed, blaring new American teen idol.

_**I got my sights set on you and I'm ready to aim**_

_**I have a heart that will never be tamed**_

_**I knew you were something special when you spoke my name**_

_**Now I can't wait to see you again**_

Silas took another sip of his drink, feeling lightheaded as the music pulsed louder. He briefly spotted Hector and Thomas in the corner, talking to a couple of teenagers.

_**I've got a way of knowing when something is right**_

_**I feel like I must've known you in another life**_

'_**Cause I felt this deep connection when you looked in my eyes**_

_**Oh I can't wait to see you again**_

_**The last time I freaked out, I just kept looking down**_

_**I st-st-stuttered when you asked me what I'm thinkin' about**_

_**Felt like I couldn't breathe, you asked what's wrong with me**_

_**My best friend Leslie said, "Oh she's just being Miley!"**_

_**The next time we hang out, I will redeem myself, **_

_**My heart can't rest til then, oh woah woah**_

_**I can't wait to see you again**_

"What're you thinking about?"

Silas blinked in surprise as he saw Saige walk up to him, her silhouette flashing with the lights of the club. He smiled faintly and stuttered, "I-I don't really know!"

Saige laughed and shouted, "Do you want to dance?" But to Silas, her words blurred together, incoherent. Sluggishly, he nodded—not really sure what he had agreed to—and let Saige pull him into the horde of people. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, the music grew even louder.

_**I got this crazy feeling deep inside**_

_**When you called and asked to see me tomorrow night**_

_**I'm not a mind-reader, but I'm reading the signs**_

_**That you can't wait to see me again**_

_**The last time I freaked out, I just kept looking down**_

_**I st-st-stuttered when you asked me what I'm thinkin' 'bout**_

_**Felt like I couldn't breathe, you asked what's wrong with me**_

_**My best friend Leslie said, "Oh, she's just being Miley!"**_

_**The next time we hang out, I will redeem myself**_

_**My heart can't rest til then, oh woah woah**_

_**I can't wait to see you again**_

Suddenly, the room spun, and Silas coughed, his throat closing in. In a shocking moment of lucidity, Silas recoiled in horror as he saw the shock of blood on Saige's shirt—his blood. And then the moment was gone, and Saige's voice sounded far away. "Silas? Silas?! What's wrong?"

The next few minutes were a blur. Through the mess of colors and noise, Silas could feel Saige wrap an arm around his waist and get Hector and Thomas. As they arrived back at Dora's house, someone shouting frantically in the background, the last few lines of the song kept playing in Silas's head.

_**I got my sights set on you and I'm ready to aim**_

_**The last time I freaked out, I just kept looking down**_

_**I st-st-stuttered when you asked me what I'm thinkin' 'bout**_

_**Felt like I couldn't breathe, you asked what's wrong with me**_

_**My best friend Leslie said, "Oh, she's just being Miley!"**_

_**The next time we hang out, I will redeem myself,**_

_**My heart can't rest til then, oh woah woah,**_

_**I, I can't wait, to see you again. **_

And then, Silas passed out.

* * *

REVIEW DAMNIT!

_Kit &_ Violet


	17. Chapter 17

_A reviewer (IGBOGAL) really cheered me up, and so I couldn't not post this!_

**_Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual_**

_**Eu não seria boa no meu trabalho se eu não poderia escolher um demônio fora de uma multidão:** I wouldn't be good at my job if I couldn't pick a demon out of a crowd_

* * *

Silas winced as he opened his eyes, sunlight filtering through the open window and straight into his eyes. Groaning, he tried to sit up, only to fall back on the pillow. His head felt like it weighed a ton. Slowly, the door creaked open, and Dora peered in, her eyes narrowed. "It's about time you woke up," she whispered, coming in with a bottle and a syringe.

The monk cocked his head to the side, trying to ask why she was whispering, but couldn't seem to form the words. Dora smiled, guessing what he was about to asked and jerked her chin to the other side of his bed. Silas turned—Saige was passed out on the chair next to the bed, still in the clothes she had worn to the club.

Dora shook her head. "It's about time she got some sleep, the little idiot. She's been up all night, just sitting there."

"I can hear you," Saige murmured, her eyes still closed, "And I don't take kindly to being called a little idiot."

"Oh, shut up," Dora sighed, "Go get some sleep; Silas will be fine."

The monk tried to sit up again, this time succeeding. He groaned. "What happened?"

"You were poisoned, that's what," Dora snapped as she filled the syringe. "Someone slipped something into your drink."

Silas winced as she jabbed the needle into his arm—but instantly, his head cleared. "There was no one sitting near me—it must have been the bartender."

"What'd he look like?"

Silas paused to think. "Tall, jagged brown hair, blue-gray eyes," he paused again, "And he had a scar on his left cheek."

Both Saige and Dora froze, exchanging glances. A second later, Saige stood, her fists clenched, heading for the door. Dora grabbed her just as she opened the door, hissing in her ear, "Don't be stupid; this is what he's expecting you to do."

"Well he's right," Saige snapped back, her voice lowered. "If you play with fire, you get burned."

"Think about what you're doing!"

"He tried to poison Silas!" Saige's eyes flicked to the monk. "I'm not going to take that lying down!"

Dora growled. "Gunner is expecting you to go after him—you're completely outmatched. You've lost the element of surprise, and you don't even know where he is. He could pick you off on the street!"

Saige grinned, her teeth bared, and hissed in Portuguese, _"Eu não seria boa no meu trabalho se eu não poderia escolher um demônio fora de uma multidão."_

The Timekeeper grit her teeth, and her grip tightened on Saige's arm. "If you have a death wish, fine, but what about Noah? If Gunner gets to you, he'll come after Noah next—and Noah, unlike you, doesn't know what Gunner even looks like!"

The exorcist froze, and then her shoulders dropped. "What do you suggest?"

Dora sighed in relief, but didn't let go of Saige's arm. "The holy water I gave Silas should help, but we need to get you to the Dolphin tonight. I'm giving you an hour to clean yourself up and pack, and then we're getting you out of Portugal." The old woman released the exorcist, who nodded and slipped out of the room.

Silas frowned. "I understood almost none of that conversation."

Dora sighed and started putting away the syringe. "It's better that you didn't—it'll keep you safe."

"I don't care about keeping myself safe—if Saige is in danger, I want to help her."

The old healer frowned. "Thinking like that is going to get you killed, boy." Without another word, Dora walked out of the room.

* * *

An hour later, Silas watched as Hector and Thomas hugged Saige and Noah goodbye. "We'll be staying here for now," the old man was telling her, "But we might come join you later. Say hello to everyone for us."

Saige nodded and turned to the Timekeeper, who smiled slightly. "Come on. We had better leave." Final goodbyes were exchanged, and Silas, Saige and Noah filed out of the small house and into the car.

After fifteen minutes, Silas noticed that the ocean was fading farther and farther away. "Where are we going?"

"The airport," Saige answered simply from the passenger seat. Turning to Dora, she asked, "Are you sure no one will be there?"

Dora nodded. Noah leaned over to Silas and explained, "Aunt Dora flies planes."

"We're _stealing_ a _plane_?!"

Noah laughed. "I guess! Awesome, huh?"

Silas groaned and sank back into the seat.

* * *

To Silas's immense relief, Dora and Saige had no intention of stealing a plane. A large, rather familiar one was idling in the runway as they drove up. As they got out, a familiar figure—once again surprisingly normal in jeans and a sweater—came to greet them.

Saige frowned. "I'm not speaking to you."

Father Michael laughed. "Why?"

"You refused to tell me that Gunner tipped the police."

The priest laughed and hugged the reluctant girl, nodding in greeting to Dora. "Would you have left if I did?"

"No," came the muffled reply. Father Michael released the girl and turned to Dora. "The tank is full and everything is operational."

"Where is the pilot?" Dora asked. At Father Michael's sheepish grin, she groaned. "You flew it here yourself, didn't you?"

"I might have."

Noah grinned and ran onto the plane. "Father Michael, you can _fly_? This is so cool!"

A loud crash and shouting from the hangar startled the four who were still on the tarmac. With a nervous glance, Father Michael gestured for them to get on the plane. Within minutes, Silas was jolted back into his seat as the plane took off, leaving Portugal behind—the ground soon fell away to ocean.

* * *

An hour later, Father Michael came out of the cockpit, taking a seat across from the monk. "Saige and Noah are in the back, getting some sleep," he explained. "Perhaps you should too. Dora tells me you were poisoned."

Silas nodded, then looked at his feet. "Father Michael, if you don't mind my asking, Saige said that you were in trouble."

The priest frowned and nodded. "I made some bad choices when I was younger, and when the government finally caught onto me, they said I could either work for them or go to prison." His eyes narrowed. "I chose to work for them for a little while. But I didn't agree with the things they made me do, so I ran."

"Oh." Silas looked out the window. Something else was bothering him. "How does Noah know all of you? He was two when Saige left, and he only saw her again about a month ago."

Father Michael smiled. "Nothing escapes you, does it? When Noah was growing up, we would visit him while his father was gone. Saige was never able to come, but we always promised him that he would see her." He cleared his throat. "When Saige's father took Noah to London to go after her, the Dolphin was actually coming to check on him. He called Saige to warn her that they were coming." The priest chuckled. "But it seems you took care of her father, didn't you?"

A few moments passed and Father Michael sighed. "I know things seem very confusing right now, Silas, but please bear with Saige. It seems old nightmares are back to haunt her—and as much as I hate to admit it, Dora was right to say that she shouldn't have involved you."

Silas grit his teeth. "I was not taught to run. Saige saved my life—and even if I had lived, I would have been sent to prison again. The very least I can do is help her in her time of need."

Father Michael chuckled. "I knew I was right about you."

Silas arched an eyebrow, confused, but Father Michael refused to say anymore. The priest muttered an excuse about checking on the controls and was out of the cabin before Silas could blink.

* * *

Saige's eyes snapped open as the plane started to descend. Instantly, she was standing, headed for the cockpit on shaky legs. She passed Silas, who had fallen asleep near the front. Pulling open the cockpit door, she glanced at Father Michael. "We're landing?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Where?"

Dora glanced at a read-out. "A private hangar. The Russian Orthodox bishop here in America arranged it for Michael."

Father Michael grinned. "I have friends in high places." He glanced back out the door. "Are Silas and Noah awake?"

Saige shook her head and headed back out. "I'll go wake them up." Crossing back over to Silas, she sat across from him and gently put her hand on his shoulder. "Silas? Wake up, we're here."

Suddenly, Silas's eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly. His hand grabbed the exorcist's wrist in a bruising grip. Saige didn't flinch. "Silas, we've arrived. Dora and Father Michael are landing the plane."

"In JFK?" Silas asked, still panicked, "They can't land it there!"

"And they aren't," Saige assured him smoothly. "It's a private hangar. And the Dolphin and Igbogal are here to greet us."

Silas sat up and tried to calm his breathing as Saige moved to wake up Noah. They were finally here—safe, for now. He stood up and went to the bathroom, splashing water on his face as the plane jolted to a stop and started down the runway to the hangar. As he came out, Saige and Noah were standing by the door, the exorcist absently biting her lower lip. "Are you alright?"

Saige glanced up in surprise. "I wasn't exactly anticipating this."

"Why?" the albino asked, "I thought you would be glad to see the Dolphin and your friends."

Saige nodded, and cast a worried glance at Silas and then at the door. "_I'll_ be happy to see the Dolphin and the others, but—" she was cut off as the plane abruptly stopped, and voices started shouting from outside the plane. The plane door opened and Silas's jaw dropped.

"You!" the Dolphin yelled.

Both Silas and Robert Langdon turned to Saige and cried out at the same time, "What is _he_ doing here?!"

* * *

_REVIEW!! _

_Kit_


	18. Chapter 18

Okay, we know we've been busy!

_But school is fun, and we love it! A guy from Angels & Demons makes a cameo!_

'Cept Kit got herself mixed up with two of her guy friends who are going after the same girl and are both begging her to help.....

_Yeah, but I'll figure it out! Anyway, for those of you waiting for And Now I Lay Me Down To Death......I'm trying to write it, but I've been so majorly writer-blocked! I'm also probably going to rename it!_

_Also, another note. In this chapter, you guys meet an Irish girl named Bianca. Now, we actually have an friend named Bianca, and she is Irish. Between the way she actually talks and the slang we picked up during the time we lived in Ireland, we believe we have the slang down mostly well. If you Irish readers have any comments or suggestions, please leave them in reviews!_

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual! We own nothing but the plot, Saige, Noah, Marie, Bianca, Sally-Anne and Stefan, as well as any OC's already mentioned. Chartrand is from Angels & Demons.**_

**_Oh, and I totally modeled their house after the Burrow from Harry Potter._**

* * *

"Silas," Saige started, "Meet the Dolphin, Robert Langdon."

"We've met!" Silas snapped, reaching for his gun, only to find it was missing. Saige gave him a pointed look, and the monk saw the faint outline of a .22 in her satchel.

Robert gaped at Saige. "Do you know who he is? He tried to _kill_ me!"

Saige nodded, "And he also saved my life."

The professor flinched in surprise and started to say something, but two female voices cut him off.

"Langdon, get the hell out of the way!"

"Get your arse off the stairs, we wanna see Saige!"

Two women all but pushed Langdon off the stairs. The first had to be French—her accent was slight, but obvious. Her light brown hair was wound in a braid that hung past her waist, and her leather jacket was wet with melted frost. Her jeans were torn, but it looked more from wear than for fashion.

The second woman had thick waves of black-brown hair that fell past her shoulders, and despite the chill of the hangar, she was wearing only a short-sleeved blue-grey dress that fell to her knees, and winter boots that came up to mid-calf. The jacket wrapped around her shoulders was definitely a man's, and too large for her slight figure.

Saige smiled as both of them hugged her. "Marie, Bianca. I've missed you."

Marie pulled away and frowned, looking over the exorcist's shoulder. "And where's Noah? I haven't seen him since...." The Frenchwoman's eyes locked with Silas's and her jaw dropped. Bianca, who was about to ask what had her friend in such a daze, followed her gaze and her eyes widened in shock as she saw the monk. "Saige, I must be buckled. Is that....?"

Saige smiled and glanced back at Silas, but her eyes were nervous. "No, it's not. That's Silas—the monk Father Michael told you about." Turning to Silas, she said, "That's Igbogal, Marie, and that's the Poet, Bianca."

Marie blinked and extended her hand. "Marie Antoinette. Laugh and I'll kill you." Silas shook her hand, resolving not to laugh.

Bianca recovered just as quickly, shaking her head and laughing. "Well, put a Santa hat on it and call it Randal!"

Silas blinked. "What?"

"She means 'that's messed up'," Saige translated, "You'll get used to the Irish slang eventually."

"Do I remind them of someone?"

Marie shot a disbelieving glare at Saige, who ignored it, "Something like that."

Meanwhile Langdon—who had recovered from his near-fall—snapped, "Wait a minute! This is the guy that tried to _kill_ me a couple of months ago and we're all _okay_ with it?"

Bianca blinked. "Oh! _This_ is that crazy monk you were gabbing about!" She frowned. "He was working for Aringarosa, Langdon—he may as well have been buckled. You can't blame him."

"Buckled?" Silas asked.

Bianca looked at him. "_Drunk_, mate. You may as well have been drunk."

Silas started to answer, but Saige hissed in his ear. "I know you may feel tempted to argue with Langdon, or about Aringarosa and the Priory, but they don't know what we know about Mary Magdalene, and we don't need any inner conflict. Robert could very easily out us if he wanted to. Will you please refrain from picking fights, for me?"

Silas paused, then nodded and turned to Langdon. "We've had our differences in the past, but now isn't the time, and I understand that. I would be very pleased to shoot at—I mean, argue with—you once Saige and Noah are out of danger and Gunner is taken care of."

Langdon's jaw dropped and he looked at Saige. "You told him about Gunner?!"

"No," Silas clarified, "She did not. I know there are things that I haven't been made privy to, but that doesn't mean anything."

Everyone jumped as Bianca clapped her hands. "Come on then," she chipped, "Off we go!" She turned to Saige. "Portrait's flight was delayed a day, so Lone Star's picking her up now. We're meeting them at the house."

Goodbyes were said to Dora and Father Michael, and then Marie and Bianca led the group out of the hanger, towards a large black Hummer. Bianca looked over her shoulder as she opened the door of a hangar. "I hope you brought something warm to wear, mates! It'd freeze the balls off a brass monkey out there!"

Silas leaned over to Saige. "What?"

The exorcist grinned as they stepped outside, the icy air making Silas suck in a deep breath. "She means it's really, really cold outside."

Silas grit his teeth. "Oh."

* * *

Looking back, the only word Silas wouldn't be able to use to describe the car ride to the house was _uneventful_. Langdon and Saige sat up front, and Noah was camped out behind the backseats, grinning ear to ear. The Hummer had two rows of backseats, facing one another. Bianca was stretched out on one of the seats, and Silas and Marie occupied the other.

"So," Bianca was telling Saige over the blare of the radio, "I got myself a fella' last year."

Saige looked at the Irishwoman through the rearview mirror. "Really? Who?"

Bianca grinned. "Robert 'n you know 'im. Chartrand."

Saige gasped. "Impossible! He's here?"

"Who's Chartrand?" Silas asked Marie.

"Langdon met him while in Rome a few years back. Remember that ordeal with the crazy camerlengo?"

Silas nodded—he vaguely remembered hearing it from the other numeraries. Marie smiled. "Well, he was the Swiss Guard that helped Robert. When he came to visit him last year, Bianca was here visiting too. They hit it off."

"And how does Saige know him?" Silas tried to disregard the small stab of jealousy coiling in his chest.

Marie shrugged. "She and I met him when we were visiting Rome. His mother knew hers—before she went insane, that is. They're really good friends."

"It's the mutt's nuts," Bianca shouted to Saige over the loud music and Marie's whispers. Silas arched an eyebrow and she giggled. "It means the real deal." She grinned and told Saige, "I just love it when you give me fresh meat to work with!"

Saige groaned. "Bianca, please don't turn him into an Irishman—I like him the way he is!" Glancing back at the group in the backseat, she smiled at Silas. "If they're driving you crazy, let me know."

"Crazy?" Bianca laughed. "Wait until he meets Lone Star—that'll put him off his rocker!"

"So," Silas started, attempting a normal conversation, "Why do they call you the Poet?"

Bianca's grin disappeared. "My mum was Irish and my dad was a Brit—hellish family, I'll tell you that. I wrote poems when my old man and woman were fighting. But all of a sudden, these random poems started appearing in my notebook—I sure as hell hadn't written them. The only thing my family _did_ agree on was being Catholic, so when the shite—I'm assumin' you don't need translation for that, mate—in the poems started comin' true, I shut my gob and realized that they were comin' from God." She shrugged, her hair splayed out on the seat cushions, "'Ventually, when my mum did the Riverdance—committed suicide—I ran away from home, and met up with Saige and the Queen," she jerked a thumb at Marie," over there."

Marie grit her teeth and growled, "How many times have I told you not to call me 'the Queen'?"

"Come on," Bianca whined, "How many women do you know that're named after queens, mate? It's......" she trailed off and looked at Silas expectantly.

"The mutt's nuts?" he tried, wincing at how vulgar he sounded.

Bianca laughed, and Marie, Robert and Saige groaned. Silas grinned—he was beginning to like these people.

* * *

An hour later, the Hummer pulled up to a large, crotchety-looking old house, just on the outskirts of Cambridge. As Silas climbed out and returned the glare that Langdon shot to him, he was amazed that the red bricks could even hold it up—the towering building looked like something out of a fairytale.

He and Saige were first up the stairs, and before they could knock, the door swung open. "Saige! My _Gawl_, it's about time y'all got here!"

Silas could only watch as Saige was knocked off her feet and yanked into the house by a short, sandy-haired girl in flared jeans. Cautiously, Silas followed her, Noah right behind him, grinning like a maniac.

"That's Sally-Anne—Lone Star. You've probably already guessed she's from Texas."

The monk jumped in surprise as Bianca appeared next to him, grinning as the new girl dragged Saige into the kitchen. Suddenly, the sandy-haired head appeared again, and Sally-Anne grinned. "Come on in, y'all!" Silas realized that the girl was wearing a cowboy hat, and the hand she was waving them in with was covered by a rawhide glove that went up to her elbow.

As Silas, Marie, and Bianca walked into the kitchen, Sally-Anne was already in full throttle. "How've you been? I hear from Aunt Dora that Gunner's fixin' to go after you! And that's why—" She trailed off as she got a good look at Silas. "Well, I'll be! Unless y'all have been goin' 'round raisin' the dead, that's gotta be the crazy monk Prof's been yammering about!" Her tone was light, but her gaze probed Saige for answers.

"I have not been yammering!" Langdon's indignant voice came from the living room, deeper into the house.

Saige nodded, "That's him. He saved my life—"

"_After_ she saved mine," Silas cut in. He hated that he was being given so much credit.

The exorcist shrugged. "Regardless. Silas, this is Sally, Sally, this is Silas."

"Nice to meet you," they said simultaneously.

"Bianca?" an accented voice came from somewhere above them, slowly descending. "Have you seen my jacket? I haven't been able to find it anywhere, and it's—" the voice trailed off as a young man in a suit came into the kitchen. He spotted the Irishwoman and sighed. "I have been looking for that all morning!"

Bianca shrugged and grinned as the young man wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Chartrand, guess who's here?"

The blonde glanced at her, than at the newcomers in the kitchen. His eyes brightened. "Saige! Noah! I haven't seen you since—" The man saw Silas and murmured something in Italian, crossing himself.

Bianca rolled her eyes and smiled at Silas. "You better get used to that." Turning to Chartrand, she whispered, "It's not what you think."

"I certainly hope not!" Glancing back at Noah, Chartrand grinned. "You're tall now! You're almost as tall as Stefan was at your age!"

Silas watched as the entire atmosphere of the room changed. Saige froze, and Marie, Bianca and Sally-Anne shot Chartrand glares that gave _'if looks could kill'_ a whole new meaning—only Noah seemed unaffected. Chartrand's eyes widened. "Oh God, Saige, I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to—it just slipped out, and I—"

"Bianca!" Langdon's sudden shout came from the living room, startling them all. "You changed my computer password!"

Instantly, the ice in the kitchen cracked. "Up your swiss, you gobshite," Bianca yelled back, "I'm with my skins!"

"Up yours, you idiot, I'm with my friends," Saige translated before Silas could even look at her.

Turning to Silas and patting Chartrand on the shoulder, Bianca grinned. "Don't worry about that, mate. Chartrand's head is up his arse—he's acting like Fecky the Ninth. Gunner's a hoor's melt anyway."

"Chartrand doesn't know what he's talking about—he's acting like a complete idiot. Gunner's a son of a bitch anyway." Silas smiled gratefully at Marie, who had provided the translation as Saige told Noah to head upstairs. Suddenly he frowned—what did Gunner have to do with this?

Bianca shot the French girl a glare. "Buy 'im a dictionary, why don't ya?"

"Speak English, why don't you?" Marie fired back.

The dark-haired girl grinned and bowed low, Chartrand's arm slipping off her shoulder. "Of course. My apologies, Your Highness."

Marie's face turned red. "Bianca! How many damn times to I have to tell you not to—"

"Well," Sally-Anne said from next to Silas, "I want some Arbuckle." She looked at the monk. "Do you?"

"Arbuckle?" Silas asked.

"Coffee." She grinned. "Sorry, y'all must be having a hard enough time understanding Bianca without me throwin' some Texan words in."

Silas glanced back at the two arguing women and sighed. "Coffee would be wonderful."

* * *

_REVIEW DAMNIT!_

_Kit &_ Violet


	19. Chapter 19

_Yeah, I know this is short, and it's a pretty big cliffhanger, but the next chapter is such a twist you guys will forget about being mad at me for posting this little tid-bit and get mad at me for the next chapter. I am also surprised no one's commented on Stefan or Gunner._

**_Warnings/Disclaimers: We own nothing but the plot, the various OC's already mentioned, and Olivia._ **

* * *

"So," Saige said as she occupied the couch between Langdon and Silas, holding a steaming mug of tea, "Chartrand, I didn't know the Swiss Guard allowed dating."

The young man shrugged. "They've become rather lenient after what happened with the camerlengo. Allowed, but not encouraged."

Saige grinned. "Commander Rocher has absolutely no idea, does he?"

"Doesn't mean it isn't allowed."

Noah looked up from blowing the marshmallows around in his hot chocolate. "You and Bianca are _dating_?!" he exclaimed.

Chartrand blushed. "Bianca is my," he paused and looked at the Irish girl, "my sparrow?"

Bianca sighed. "_Bird._ I'm your bird."

Silas glanced at Saige. "Bird?"

The exorcist shrugged. "It means girlfriend." Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Where's Olivia?"

Chartrand groaned and slapped himself on the forehead, exchanging a sheepish glance with Sally-Anne. "_That's_ what I meant to tell you! When we picked her up from the airport, she glanced at her sketchbook, and was silent the entire ride back. She looked horrified when we got out of the car. She's been up in her room ever since."

Silas glanced at Saige. "Portrait?"

Saige nodded, her eyes worried. "Olivia is the baby of our group, not counting Noah—she's eighteen. She's the most......fragile, I guess you could say; she's so new to this."

Sally-Anne grinned. "Saige, you make us all sound ancient! I mean, Bianca and I are only twenty-two, and you and Marie are twenty-four! Chartrand's twenty-three! Bible and Thomas are only twenty-six!" The Texan looked at Langdon. "Prof, Hector and Dora are the only old ones!"

Langdon looked up from his laptop. "Hey!" Silas smirked, and the professor shot him a dirty look.

The albino frowned. "You know what I meant, Sally. We should check on her."

Bianca stood. "I can do that." Storming to the stairs, she grabbed the banister and yelled, "Olivia! Get your skinny little arse down here, or there'll be wigs on the green!" There was no response, and the Irishwoman sighed. "Don't make me drag you down here effin' and blindin'!"

Silas's head spun. "_What_ did she say?"

Chartrand smiled sympathetically. "She told Olivia to 'get her skinny little ass down here, or there'd be hell to pay'. Then she told her not to make her 'drag her down here cursing and swearing'."

"Isn't it kicking and screaming?"

Marie rolled her eyes. "Not the way Bianca puts it."

When there was still no answer, Saige stood, heading for the stairs. But before she had even taking a step, there was a banging upstairs—quickly descending—and a girl rushed into the living room, clutching a large sketchbook. Her blonde hair fell in ringlets around her face, and her brown eyes were red and tearstained. "Saige, I'm so sorry!"

Saige paused, bewildered, and exchanged a glance with Marie and Langdon. "Sorry about what?"

"I saw this drawing when Chartrand and Sally were picking me up, and it really scared me! I've been trying to figure out different meanings, and I've been praying for it to go away, but God isn't listening!"

Langdon stood, and Silas reluctantly followed suit. "What in the world could be on there that makes you so upset?"

Olivia choked back a sob and started flipping through the sketchbook, past brilliant still-lifes and landscapes, stopping at the last page. Silas looked over Saige's shoulder, and his jaw dropped.

The art style was different that Olivia's, but no less amazing. On the left side of the drawing, it was him—almost like looking at a photograph. On the other side, however, was another drawing of him, but younger; the way he would have looked twelve years ago. At the bottom of the page, there appeared to be scribbles, but Silas soon realized they were letters.

"I don't know what it says," Olivia whimpered, looking at Saige.

Silas looked at the exorcist—she was pale and shaking. "I do. It's Russian. It says 'choose'."

Bianca whistled. "Saige, messages like this are as scarce as hen's teeth. You better be careful."

Saige nodded absently—Silas had the feeling that she didn't even hear the Irishwoman. "Is my room still here?"

Marie thought a moment, then said, "Yes, but you'll have to share with Noah and Silas."

The girl smiled tightly. "Oh. Well in that case, I think I'll spend some time up on the roof." Without another word, she headed for the stairs.

There was an awkward silence, and then Chartrand cleared his throat. "Who wants to rent a movie?"

* * *

_REVIEW!_

_Kit_


	20. Chapter 20

_Question: Should we keep posting if you guys don't review?_

Answer: No, we should not.

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: We own nothing but the plot, Saige, Marie, Biance, Sally-Anne, Olivia, Noah, Sylas, Stefan, and other already mentioned OC's. The song is Panic! At The Disco's song, 'I Write Sins, Not Tragedies'**_

_Beware the cliffhanger......one awaits._

* * *

"You know, sitting on the stairs isn't going to make her come down any sooner."

Silas's head snapped up, and he glared at the man who hovered over him. "I don't see how that's any of your business," he hissed.

Langdon shrugged. "I'd hate to sound infantile, but it's most definitely my business—I knew Saige first."

The monk groaned—here he was, on the verge of fighting with this idiot when Saige had asked him not to. "How do you know her?" he asked reluctantly.

Langdon looked at Silas. "How do I know her?" He laughed. "Now that's a story! I was talking with a colleague of mine about how exorcism was impossible, and Saige got word of it. She personally flew three thousand and seventy-four miles, walked into my office, slapped me and told me not to doubt what I've never seen. We've been good friends since that."

Silas rolled his eyes. "That sounds like Saige."

There was an awkward silence, and then Langdon reached into his pocket, rummaging for something. Silas tensed as he pulled his hand out, and the professor arched an eyebrow, tossing him a key. "Here."

"What is it for?" Silas hadn't seen locks on any door except the front one, and he wasn't planning on going outside.

"It's a key to the attic. There's a window that opens out to the roof from there—Saige probably locked it. I managed to filch it from Bianca." Langdon shrugged, looking sheepish. "The key is just in case you, y'know, wanted to go check on Saige or something." Smiling slightly, Langdon walked off.

Silas waited until he was out of sight to bolt up the stairs.

* * *

_**Oh, well imagine  
As I'm pacing the pews in a church corridor  
And I can't help but to hear  
No, I can't help but to hear an exchanging of words **_

_**"What a beautiful wedding!  
What a beautiful wedding!", says a bridesmaid to a waiter  
"Ah yes, but what a shame, what a shame  
The poor groom's bride is a WHORE"**_

_**I chime in with a  
"Haven't you people ever heard of closing a goddamn door?!"  
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things  
With a sense of poise and rationality**_

Silas cocked his head as he climbed into the attic, absently wondering where the music was coming from. It seemed to be echoing from the rafters, and Silas figured it must be outside. Carefully crossing the creaking floor, Silas found the window that opened up to the roof, clogged with dust. A set of handprints were on it—Saige had been here.

Pushing open the window, Silas yelped as he was pelted with icy cold droplets of rain. The sky rumbled as he pulled himself out and shut the window, propping it open slightly with a rock. Over the din of the rain and thunder, Silas heard the music grow louder.

_**I chime in  
"Haven't you people ever heard of closing a goddamn door?!"  
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things  
With a sense of **_

_**Well in fact  
Well I'll look at it this way  
I mean technically our marriage is saved  
Well this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne**_

_**Oh! Well in fact  
Well I'll look at it this way  
I mean technically our marriage is saved  
Well this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne  
Pour the champagne**_

"Saige!" Silas shouted, scanning the slopes of the roof for the girl. Suddenly, lightning flashed and the monk saw the outline of a figure sitting on the eastern side. Carefully crossing over the wet rooftops to her, Silas found Saige leaning the chimney, her knees to her chest and her head down, soaking wet. Next to her, under an eave and completely dry, a CD player blared.

_**I chime in with a  
"Haven't you people ever heard of closing a goddamn door?!"  
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things  
With a sense of poise and rationality **_

_**I chime in with a  
"Haven't you people ever heard of closing a goddamn door?!"  
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things  
With a sense of poise and rationality  
Again**_

Quietly, Silas sat down next to the girl, shivering as he felt the water on the roof seeping through his pants. Saige didn't acknowledge him, but shifted closer, pressing herself to his side. "Why don't you go under the eave?" he asked her.

Saige looked up and glanced at the CD player. "Not enough room." She reached over and turned the volume up. "I love this song. It reminds me of _Clockwork Orange_."

"Isn't that a book?"

She nodded. "It was very strange but strangely enlightening."

There was another silence before Silas said, "I remind your friends of someone, don't I?"

A nod.

"And that was me in the drawing."

"Not exactly." Saige's voice could barely be heard over the crack of the rain hitting the shingles and the music.

_**I chime in  
"Haven't you people ever heard of closing a goddamn door?!"  
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things  
With a sense of poise and rationality **_

_**I chime in  
"Haven't you people ever heard of closing a goddamn door?!"  
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things  
With a sense of poise and rationality  
Again**_

The song stopped, and then started again, eerily hypnotic. Saige sighed and looked at the monk. "Silas, can I be alone?"

Silas stood and headed back. When he reached the window, he groaned—the rock had been knocked loose, and the window was shut. Glancing around, he wondered out loud, "How am I going to get down?" He looked over the edge and shrugged; it wasn't that far a drop to the back lawn, and he had dropped farther before. Looking back at Saige, he shrugged again and jumped off the edge.

The monk hissed as he hit the ground, bending his knees to absorb the impact. Standing and wincing as the tendons in his knees protested, Silas looked up triumphantly.

"_Jaysus!_ You look like shite! It's lashing out here—what do you think you're doing, jumping around like a gobshite?"

Silas jumped and whirled to see Bianca sitting on the back patio, a notebook on her lap and Chartrand's jacket around her shoulders. She gestured him to come over and grinned. "How much of _that_ could you understand?"

"I couldn't really hear over the rain."

Bianca frowned. "Oh. Well, I said, 'Jesus, you look like shite! It's raining pretty hard out here—what do you think you're doing, jumping around like an idiot?"

Silas shrugged and sat down next to her. An awkward silence followed, and Silas asked, "How are you?"

The Irishwoman shrugged. "I'm happy out; just staring at the Piss in the Beds."

"_What?"_

"I said, I'm good, just staring at the dandelions." She pointed at the yellow flowers and scowled. "Maybe we _should_ buy you a dictionary."

Silas shook his head. "I'm sure I'll be used to it eventually." Glancing at the notebook on her lap, he asked, "What are you doing?"

"There's been a new poem in my notebook for about a week now, and I'd been putting it on the long finger—procrastinating. But since the ri-ra—excitement—with Olivia's picture, I figured maybe I should start trying to understand it."

Silas looked over the girl's shoulder at the open notebook. It was difficult to read the curling writing, but soon he figured out what it said;

_The road less traveled by, _

_Is oft not the choice to take,_

_It is better to take the road others have worn down,_

_Because evidence of their mistakes,_

_Lies as a warning to those who follow._

He sighed. "I can't be much of a help—I have no idea what it means."

Bianca frowned. "That makes two of us." Giving the man a long look, she said, "You looked vexed." There was a pause, and she nodded. "Oh. You went to check on Saige."

"Yes."

"Saige is bleedin' deadly, but that really knocked her off—none of us were expecting _that_, really."

Silas arched an eyebrow. "Bleeding deadly?"

The girl looked exasperated. "Brilliant?" When there was no answer, she sighed. "I'm trying to say that Saige is a genius!"

"Oh."

There was another long silence and Silas's eyes were drawn to the scars that lined the insides of Bianca's wrists, all the way up to her elbows. His eyes widened in surprise.

"It's not what you think."

The monk jumped in surprise—apparently he had been caught staring. Bianca looked up at him, her blue eyes evaluating him. "I didn't cut myself because I needed to or anything." She sighed. "I have a skin who used to cut, and I told her every time she cut, I would too. It helped her stop—she didn't want to see me get hurt."

Silas nodded in sympathy. "Who was it?" The man figured it was Sally-Anne—she was unnaturally happy, like she had seen the worst in life and had nowhere to go but up, and that would explain why she wore those rawhide gloves.

Bianca blinked in surprise. "She didn't tell you? I thought she would, considering she's your bird and everything."

"I don't have a girlfriend." Silas said slowly.

The Irish girl cocked her head to the side, confused. "Saige isn't your bird? You had me fooled."

Before Silas could protest and tell her that he was a man of the cloth, bells went off in his head. "Saige was _cutting _herself?!"

Bianca nodded. "Well, not on her wrists—only places where you couldn't tell the difference between her cuts and what the Discipline left behind. Saige was really bolloxed up when she first came to London." At Silas's stunned look, she added, "Damn, no! I mean, she wasn't doing drugs or drinking or whoring 'round or anything, she was just really warped. She had to leave her brother behind with her arse of an old man—she was _always _afraid Noah would never forgive her for it. Her schizo mum just up and disappeared, and then Gunner came after, hell-bent on making her life miserable. And then her fiancé did the Riverdance.....I don't know how she gets up in the morning." Bianca trailed off, shaking her head.

Silas froze. "Fiancé? Saige was engaged?"

The prophet arched an eyebrow. "Wow, you really are out of the loop, aren't you? Saige had a fella' when she came to London—I think she dated him for a year and a half. They were going to tie the knot about six months after he had proposed. But I guess it was just too much for him—Gunner was still after Saige, and he had started going after her fiancé too; sending him boxes of scorpions and shite like that at work. He shot himself when Saige was out on an exorcism call. God, there was blood _everywhere _when we came to get her out of the apartment—it's like the hoor's melt _wanted _to stab Saige in the heart as he left."

The information bounced around in Silas's head, refusing to make any sense. Saige had cut herself? Saige was engaged? And who the hell was Gunner? Silas bowed his head. "I'm so sorry. What was his name?"

Bianca shrugged, fishing in Chartrand's jacket for a pack of cigarettes. When she found one, she lit it up with the lighter she carried in her dress pocket, shooting Silas a look as if to say, _you gonna stop me_? "His name was Sylas, I think. He looked a lot like you—he was albino and everything." She laughed bitterly, cigarette smoke streaming from her open mouth. "Bleedin' deadly coicidence, isn't it?"

* * *

_Review!_

_Kit &_ Violet


	21. Chapter 21

_Review or we'll delete this story, and work on the Hellboy ones that have been racking up._

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

* * *

Silas stumbled up to his room, his head spinning. His stomach felt like it was trying to fight his way out of his throat and he reeled, grabbing for the chair as he collapsed, gasping for air. He was sick, and he couldn't breathe—he barely heard the door open and someone drop to their knees next to him.

"Silas?" The voice was female, and Silas tried to pinpoint where it was coming from as his vision blurred. Slowly, Saige's pale, worried face came into focus. "Silas, are you okay?"

Her hands wrapped around his arm, pulling him up and helping him onto the air mattress. Silas leaned against the wall, focusing on a dent in the ceiling as his head stopped spinning. Slowly looking at Saige, Silas focused on a scar on her left shoulder—for a long time he thought it was from the Discipline, but now he realized that the Opus Dei instrument would reach much farther than that. Saige flinched as he reached out and traced the scar. "Why?"

Saige frowned. "Bianca told you." It wasn't a question.

Silas nodded and sat up, his hand still running up and down the scar. "Why would you do something like that to yourself?"

She shrugged. "I had been doing it all my life, remember? When I started cutting, the only difference to me was that I wasn't doing it for God—I was doing it for myself. I was selfish when I first got away from my father." She looked up, her eyes wet. "I left my own brother behind, can you believe that? I left him for _eight_ years. I always expected that he wouldn't want anything to do with me."

"Saige," Silas said gently, "Noah loves you—you saw what he was like when you wanted to send him away when your father was after you. He forgives you," Silas smiled, "and in fact, I don't think he was ever mad at you."

Saige looked down, and when she looked back up at the man, her composure was back—there was no sign she had ever been close to crying. "What else did Bianca tell you?"

Silas smiled at Saige, but he couldn't help wonder if she was seeing him or her fiancé. For reasons he didn't quite understand, that thought hurt him more deeply than the bullets that had cut through his skin. "Nothing; that was all."

* * *

"Saige!"

Sally-Anne bolted for the girl as she and Silas came downstairs. Shooting a grin at the monk, she turned to Saige. "Y'all gotta come with me to the party!"

"Party?"

Sally-Anne nodded. "I'm studying at MIT, and one of my friends rented out this house to have a party! I want y'all to come with me!"

Silas turned to Saige. "Shouldn't _you_ be in college?"

Marie shrugged and answered for the girl. "Saige and I graduated two years ago from Oxford. Bianca's studying at Stanford, and Olivia's just gotten into Harvard."

Saige frowned. "I don't know....."

"Come on!" the Texan begged, "Bianca is going with Chartrand, and Marie and Olivia are coming too! You and Silas gotta come!"

Silas blinked in surprise. "Me?"

"'Course you, silly! Saige can't go alone, can she?" Sally-Anne looked at the two albinos. "Please?"

Saige and Silas looked at each other, sighed and said in unison. "Fine."

* * *

The living room was a mad-house when Silas and Saige came down the stairs. Sally-Anne and Marie were fixing their hair, and Bianca was running around. Chartrand looked lost. "Are you busy?" he asked his girlfriend.

Bianca stopped for one second to glare at the guard, then continued to run. "Does it _look_ like I'm pulling my plum?"

Chartrand frowned, confused. "So, you're busy, then?"

"Like a blue-arsed fly!" came the reply. The Swiss Guard looked baffled but shrugged and wandered off into the kitchen.

Saige smiled. "What're you looking for?"

"My mascara! Damnit, it was just here a minute ago!"

Saige grinned at Silas and asked, "You mean like the mascara you're holding in your hand?"

Bianca froze and groaned. "I'm Fecky the Ninth!" Glancing at Saige, she frowned. "You could have at least tried!"

The exorcist looked at herself. "What's wrong?"

"Ponytail, jeans and a t-shirt, sneakers and light make-up?" Marie _tsk_ed. "You look like a girl-next-door!"

Grabbing Saige and pulling her away from him, Silas could only watch as Bianca let Saige's dyed hair down, pulled a tube of black lipstick out of her pocket, and swiped it over the girl's lips. Glancing at her silver t-shirt, she smirked. "'Hail To The Thief'? Saige, that's brilliant. Keep it." She pulled a pair of maroon skinny-jeans out of her bag. "Wear these though."

Once she had been released from the Irishwoman's clutches, Saige sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She smiled tiredly at Silas. "If they weren't my friends, I really would kill them."

Silas laughed, and then something occurred to him. "Where's Noah?"

"At Robert's." Saige ignored Silas's look of disgust.

"Saige!" Sally-Anne shouted as she and the rest of the girls caught up to them. "Prof took the Hummer, so we're taking your car."

Saige smiled and was about to say something, when her and Marie's phones rang. The exorcists looked at each other. "Yours or mine?" Saige asked.

Marie smirked. "Mine. I'm taking the Ducati." Looking at the pouting Sally-Anne, she sighed. "I'll catch up, I swear."

Grudgingly, the Texan nodded and Marie dropped her purse, instead grabbing a backpack on her way out the door. The Frenchwoman peeled away from the group as Bianca looked the door after them, and in seconds, the roar of a motorcycle came from the garage. She was gone by the time Saige had unlocked her car.

Silas climbed into the Jeep Liberty, and glancing at the road Marie had taken, he asked, "What was that?"

"Exorcism call."

Saige revved the car, pulling out onto the road, occasionally glancing at the printout Sally-Anne had given her. They drove in relative silence until a yelp behind them startled the group.

"Shite!" Bianca was rummaging in her bag. "I almost forgot!" She pulled out a bag of what looked like wireless headset. She tossed two to Silas, who handed one to Saige, asking, "What are these?"

"Modified Bluetooth," Chartrand answered as he clipped one into his ear and flicked it on. Almost instantly, it sound like the Swiss Guard's voice was in his head. "The Swiss Guard use them to communicate without attracting attention."

"And _regular_ earpieces were.........?"

"Too noticeable. Stupid movies made sure everyone knew what they looked like." Chartrand grinned. "I managed to get some of the newer models for us."

Silas turned the volume down on his earpiece. "For us to do what?"

"Just in case," Olivia said, still frowning at the picture in her sketchbook, eerily solemn, "We're all wanted criminals, remember?"

* * *

The house was basically shaking on its foundation when they climbed out of the car. Multi-colored lights flashed from the windows, and it reeked of alcohol. Bianca wrinkled her nose. "Lone Star, did you invite us to a party or a rave?"

The Texan stuck her tongue out. "Shut up, Poet. You're just bein' snarky." She grinned at Saige. "Right Amora?"

"Keep Amora the hell out of it!"

Silas watched in amusement—noticing how easily they switched into their aliases—as they walked up to the house. They had almost reached the door before someone behind them squealed.

Sally-Anne whirled to see a tall blonde girl coming running towards her. "Sarah! You'll never believe it! He proposed!"

Silas couldn't help glancing down at Saige, just in time to see pain flash over her features. Sally-Anne grinned. "That's great—I'm so happy for y'all!" She glanced at her friends. "Oh! Let me introduce you!" She pointed to Bianca and Chartrand, "That's Claire and David, the li'l blonde one is Rose, and," the Texan gestured to Silas and Saige, "These guys are Alex and Gaia. They recently got engaged too."

The monk could feel the shock ripple through Saige. The girl started to say something, but thought better of it as the blonde girl grinned at her. "Oh, congratulations! You must be so excited!"

"Ecstatic." Saige's answer was so quiet, Silas had to lean in to hear her.

As the girl flounced off, Bianca turned to Sally-Anne. "Claire? Really? Who was that cuttie anyway?"

"_Cuttie_? Gawl, Bianca, you can't just say 'girl'? Her boyfriend—fiancé, I mean—is the guy who rented out the place. It's his party." The Texan frowned. "He has a strange name, though—Festan. He's foreign, but I don't even know what country that's from."

Silas glanced down at Saige and put a hand on her shoulder, frowning as she flinched. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Saige gave him a tight smile and grabbed the doorknob, yanking the door open and letting the blaring music swallow her answer. The group slipped into the house, splitting up. "Have fun!" Bianca's voice shouted into their earpieces.

Soon Saige and Silas were left alone in the mob of people. The man noticed that Saige wouldn't even look him in the eye and she half-heartedly moved in time with the music. Sighing, Silas turned his earpiece off and shouted over the music, "There was more!"

Saige—following his example and turning her earpiece off—frowned and asked, "What?"

Silas grit his teeth; he was not looking forward to this. "Bianca told me about Sylas!"

Saige froze, and Silas waited for her to get angry. Why wouldn't she? He had no right to know. But at the same time, Silas couldn't deny the fact that anger was boiling in the back of his mind. Had she only helped him because he looked like her fiancé? Would she have left him to die if he was just another man? Saige never had told him what compelled her to save him—she just acted like it was what anyone would do in her position.

To his immense surprise, she simply shrugged. "That was a long time ago—I was seventeen and stupid. I was hurt when he decided to take the easy way out, and I can't blame him, but I've moved on." She smiled, but the action was forced and Silas realized she was flat-out lying. "But thank you for telling me." She switched her earpiece back on, and Silas did the same.

Suddenly, Saige grinned. "Do you want to dance? This is a party, and we are supposed to be having fun!"

The man grinned back. "Are you sure you want to dance? The last time, I coughed blood up onto your shirt!"

"So don't drink anything this time!"

Silas laughed as Saige pulled his farther into the house, closer to the music. Just as they were about to reach the living room, a voice shouted in their earpieces. "Saige! Get out of there!"

"Igbogal? Where are you?" Saige paused halfway through the doorway, exchanging a stunned look with Silas. "I thought you had an exorcism call!"

"There's nothing here! You're in a trap! Get the hell out of there!"

Over the heads of the partiers, Silas saw Bianca and Chartrand, listening intently to Marie through their earpieces, and Sally-Anne and Olivia were already heading for the door. The monk grabbed Saige's hand. "We have to leave!"

Saige nodded, and pulled him out of the group of people that had congregated around them. Suddenly as they reached the room they had started in, she stopped and turned around. "It was an anagram!"

"What?!" Silas had no idea what she was talking about.

"Festan! It was an anagram for _Stefan_!" her eyes widened. "Oh God!" Saige turned back to head for the door—

And froze as she found herself face-to-face with the barrel of a Sig Sauer. Silas recognized the man holding it as the bartender. The bartender grinned at Saige and shouted over the music, "Hello, little sister!"

* * *

_Kit_


	22. Chapter 22

__

Review guys! The story's just getting interesting, and I'd hate to be forced to delete it!

Adrienne makes her formal appearance here, though technically she was in the last one! Enjoy!

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

* * *

Almost immediately, Silas could feel the adrenaline pounding just behind his eyes. His arm snaked around Saige's waist, pulling her back against his chest. The monk's other hand reached around to grab his gun, but he paled when his fingers grasped an empty pocket. Switching to his fall back, he started to shout, "He's got a—"

"Gun!"

Silas, Saige and the bartender all jumped in surprise as a young woman only a few feet from them dropped her plastic cup of beer and shrieked. Instantly, people began to scream and pour out of the house—in less than a minute, the house was empty except for the bartender and a dozen other gunmen. One—with more metal on his face than skin—sneered at Bianca and Chartrand as he and the others corralled the group together.

The bartender grinned. "You're getting slow sis. I thought you'd recognize Cho at least." He nodded towards the metal-faced teen.

"I didn't realize it was him—all the shit on his face is covering up the broken nose I gave him," Saige spat. Cho growled and pulled back the hammer, and Silas pulled the exorcist closer.

A tinkling laugh came from the stairs, where the slim blonde girl who had flounced up to Sally-Anne earlier was standing, cradling a gun in her hands. "Stefan, you didn't tell me your little sister was so _cute_!"

As the girl came down the stairs and sauntered over to Stefan, who wrapped an arm around her waist, Bianca sneered. "Oh look, Lady Muck. Goddamn, Adrienne, could you wear a feckin' tighter shirt? And you're blonde now." She turned to Stefan. "It's just like _you_ to get a ganky like _her_."

Adrienne wrinkled her nose, her perfectly plucked brows furrowing. "Ganky? God, can't you, like, speak _English_, Bianca?"

"Bitch," Olivia supplied, her arms wrapped around herself, and her eyes wide, "Whore, slut, unpleasant woman. Take your pick."

The girl smirked. "Oh, really?" In a blur, her gun hand flew up and there was a bang. Bianca fell to the ground as Chartand shouted in shock, her eyes widened in disbelief and surprise—as opposed to pain—as her hand flew to her side. "She _shot_ me! The stupid ganky _shot_ me!"

Saige took a step forward, almost breaking out of Silas's grasp, and Stefan's gun returned to her. "Now, now, sis—don't do anything stupid."

"Don't call me that!" Saige snapped, her eyes flashing.

Silas looked from her to the man. "He's your brother?"

"He was," the exorcist was shaking in his arms—from rage or from fear, Silas didn't know. "He abandoned us and tried to sell us out. He was with me when I ran from my father, and he was part of our group until he decided he wanted more power."

"Power?" Stefan laughed. "You make me sound like some sci-fi villain. All I wanted was for people to recognize us. God _talks_ to us! We're the new Messiahs!"

"Not to you!" Sally-Anne snapped. "You were nothing—you still are! God stay silent because He knows what you really are!"

Stefan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Goddamn, Sally-Anne, could you be anymore melodramatic? Honestly, if you all want to play cops and robbers, be my guest. I'm just here for my siblings." He turned to Saige. "Speaking of which, where is Noah?"

"Nowhere you can get to him," Saige hissed. "I'd sooner strangle him myself than give him to you."

Stefan's eyes narrowed dangerously, but before he could answer, a ringing startled everyone. Silas jumped as he felt something buzzing against his thigh—Saige's phone, he realized. Everyone looked at the exorcist expectantly.

"Well?" Stefan asked as the phone continued to ring, "Aren't you going to answer it?"

With a scowl, Saige pulled out her phone. "Hello?"

Langdon's voice sounded panicked through Silas's earpiece—the monk realized that Saige must have connected her phone to the Bluetooth. "Saige? What the hell is going on?! Marie just showed up at my house, talking about some kind of trap!"

Saige laughed. "Oh, hey Martin. No, I can't talk now, I'm at the party." She glanced at Stefan, who was waiting for her to finish.

"Saige, what the hell are you—"

"Yeah, the MIT one," Saige continued like she hadn't heard anything, "didn't Claire email you the address?"

Langdon said nothing, and Saige frowned. "Can you come? Sorry, I wish you could, but the party's over—everyone is gone. Can I call you back?" She pretended to listen, and then said, "Oh, sure. It was the Soskovite suitcase—_S-O-S_-K-O-V-I-T-E. It's under the bed. Okay, bye."

Silas, who, up until this point, had thought Saige had gone crazy, realized what she had done. She had told Langdon that Bianca had given him the house's address, and that any witnesses were gone. She had also told him that they needed help.

* * *

_REVIEW DAMNIT!_

_Kit &_ Violet


	23. Chapter 23

_Jesus Christ (Silas would ream us for that!) guys, REVIEW!_

Igbogal is the best.....the rest of you? Not so much!

_The story's winding to an end (eventually), and I'm really surprised it lasted so long....this is our longest fic._

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

* * *

Silas's mind started to catalogue the different possibilities of escape—so far his options were looking good. He had no gun, and he was outnumbered seven to one. And Bianca was shot, though she seemed more surprised that in pain.

"Hey!" Silas jumped as Cho gestured towards him with his gun. "Stefan, he looks familiar. Isn't he Aringarosa's guy?"

Stefan arched his eyebrow and looked Silas over. "Damn, you're right!" He smirked at the monk. "The Bishop is wondering where you are."

"He can rot in hell," Silas spat, and Saige looked up at him in stunned surprise. Internally, he was just as shocked. Several months ago, he would never have dared to even _think_ that. They seemed to know quite a bit about him too. Suddenly, his eyes widened—he had an idea.

"You know," he said slowly, letting go of Saige and locking eyes with Stefan, "I can kill you at any moment. You know who I am, and I'm assuming you know what I'm capable of."

Adrienne smiled. "Of course you can—but you won't." Her gun swiveled from Bianca and Chartrand to Saige.

Silas shrugged. "What the hell do I care? All she's done is set the police after me again—nothing but misery. I'd rather have died."

Sally-Anne gave an outraged string of curses, and Saige whirled on him. The monk gave her a look, pleading with her to understand his plan.

"You son of a bitch!"

Silas's head snapped to the side as Saige's hand flashed out and slapped him. He inwardly sighed with relief—she understood. The exorcist was fuming, her fist clenched and murder in her eyes. Bianca, Chartrand, Olivia and Sally-Anne watched them in surprise. "Guys," Olivia hissed, "Now's not the time!"

"Shut the hell up, Olivia," Saige snapped. Her gaze snapped back to Silas and she winked quickly. "You ungrateful bastard!"

"Grateful? What do I have to be grateful for? You dragged me halfway around the world to be shot to death!" Silas raised his voice, and suddenly Bianca gasped—she knew what they were up to.

Saige stepped back from him, closer to the small wet bar, where several half-empty bottles were standing. "I should have let you bleed!" Without warning, she snatched up one of the bottles and threw it at him. Silas immediately knew what she was doing—the bottle arced ridiculously high, and almost all eyes in the room followed it.

"No! You idiots, she's—" Stefan started, but it was already too late. Chartrand, Sally-Anne and Olivia, who had realized what the albinos were up to, had snatched the guns away from everyone who had followed the bottle's arc into the corner, where it shattered. Silas smiled, glad to have a gun in his hands. Adrienne swore loudly.

But Stefan—aside from his initial surprise—wasn't perturbed. Instead, he leered at the monk. "Tricky. But what're you going to do? I'll plug Saige full of holes before you can pull your trigger." He winked. "This gun's automatic and I have Saige at point-blank range."

Silas's earpiece suddenly crackled to life, and a voice said smugly, "And now you don't."

A second later, the house went dark.

Instantly, someone grabbed his hand and yanked him towards the front door. The air was cool on his sweaty face and he spotted everyone running down the lawn to a Hummer that sat on the curb, its headlights off. As they climbed in, Silas noticed Robert and Marie in the front. Both were streaked with dirt, like they had been digging around under houses, and the Frenchwoman clutched a pair of wire-cutters tightly.

Langdon didn't take his eyes off the road as he hit the gas. "What happened back there, Saige?"

Saige was looking out the window, her back to everyone else. "Stefan is back. Bianca was shot."

Aside from the widening of his eyes, Robert didn't react. Instead, he turned off the main road and completely let go of the brakes—trees whirled past the car at breakneck speeds. Silas gripped the armrest mercilessly. It didn't occur to him to ask why no one was going to the hospital until they had already arrived and moved Bianca to the couch.

As he sank into an armchair, Saige, Marie and Sally-Anne flitted past him efficiently; injecting a vial of holy water into Bianca's arm, cleaning away the blood and throwing away her ruined shirt—at this point Silas looked away and didn't glance back until Saige walked past him, holding a small ball of metal in her bloody, gloved hand. Olivia and Robert sat with Noah as the others moved Bianca upstairs, and then Saige took Noah to bed. By the time the kid and the injured girl were taken care of, Silas's eyes had already closed without his say-so.

"Thank God. He's asleep."

"Shut up! You'll wake him up!"

That was Langdon and Chartrand. They were standing close by, probably by the couch. Another set of footsteps came from the hallway, and Marie walked in. "What's going on?"

"Shh," Robert hissed, "You'll wake him up."

"I didn't know you cared." That was Saige. Silas almost jumped as he heard her voice—he hadn't heard her come in.

"Saige...."

"I know what you're about to say, Chartrand, and I won't do it."

"Saige, listen to reason! He's a liability! He doesn't know anything!"

"So let's tell him."

"Are you mad?!" Langdon demanded, "Saige, he tried to kill me, and Sophie too."

"Sophie is a bitch—she deserves it." Silas tried not to grin—he couldn't agree more.

"Saige—"

"Robert, he saved her life. Give the man some credit."

Cracking his eyes open slightly, Silas saw Saige smile at Sally-Anne. "Thank you. I have to tell Silas—I owe him that much."

"Do you owe him, or do you owe Sylas?"

Silas could sense Saige bristle. "Robert, it has _nothing_ to do with him. He's dead; end of story. Stefan got to him."

"Saige, you and I both know that's a load of BS. Do you really owe this psycho as much as you think you do?"

"Yes," the albino hissed, "I do. And I'm telling you the same thing I told Dora—if he goes, I go."

"What about Noah?" Chartrand asked.

"I trust you all enough to leave him with you until I take care of Stefan."

"Take _care_ of—Saige, did you _see_ how many whackjobs he's gathered around himself?! We got _lucky_ this time!"

Silas growled inwardly—he would have to have a word with Chartrand and Langdon later.

"Saige," Marie started, "They are right. How are you going to explain Stefan to Silas? It isn't exactly a brother-sister argument."

"My brother and I ran away from our father, leaving Noah behind. After I met the rest of my friends, Stefan seemed to decide that we were the Messiahs, and that people should listen to us. We told him he was insane, and he should go to hell. So he tried to go after Noah, to persuade him just in case, but we managed to get him arrested. Now he's back to kill me and get Noah." Silas could hear the frustration in Saige's voice. "It's as simple as that."

"And what if he decides that we're all crazy and goes to tell the cops?"

Sally-Anne scoffed. "Prof, he killed eight people—the boys in blue are the last people he'll be talking to."

Chartrand started to snap something, but Marie cut him off. "Look, we're all tired. Robert, go home—you have classes to teach tomorrow. Chartrand, go check on Bianca. Sally-Anne, bolt the doors and take first watch; I'll come get you in an hour. And Saige? Get some sleep before I kick you to death."

Silas waited until everyone had left before sneaking past Sally-Anne and up the stairs, slipping into Saige's room just in time to see her put a bloody knife back into her bag and slump against the couch, her eyes closed. A trail of blood crawled down her arm from the new cut on her shoulder.

* * *

Silas awoke to hear the rustling of clothes being tossed. Cracking his eyes open, he spotted Saige on the other corner of the room, hurriedly shoving things into a small backpack. Looking up at him, she put her finger to her lips and glanced at Noah. Silas nodded and crawled over to her. "What's going on?"

"I'm leaving."

Silas's eyes narrowed. "I'm coming with you." The tone in his voice left no room for discussion and Saige shrugged, handing his backpack to him.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Saige locked the front door behind them, slipping out into the garage and started the Jeep. In minutes, the house faded away behind them and they were out on the highway. Silas let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and prayed the sweat on his brow wouldn't slick off the dye. "Where are we going?"

"Latvia. I have relatives there."

"I thought you only had one plane ticket."

Saige didn't look at him. "I had two."

Guilt tore through Silas. "Noah. You're leaving him behind again. I should have realized—"

"It's not your fault; it's safer to leave him here. Robert and Marie can take care of him." There was a shake in her voice that betrayed her words.

They stayed silent until Saige had pulled into a parking spot at JFK. As Silas reached for the door handle, he stopped to watch Saige pull a roll of gauze out of her pocket, carefully winding it around her cilice.

The cilice—it was a testament to how normal it had become to be around Saige that Silas had forgotten about it altogether. He stared at it like it was the first time he had ever seen it, until the glinting metal disappeared under clean white wrappings. He stayed frozen as Saige grabbed a white, legal document out of her bag, and only remembered he had legs when she slammed the door behind her.

Since they had no luggage, they whirled past the mess of intertwining lines. Silas held his breath as he passed through the security check, but his heart stopped as the sirens went off as Saige went through.

The guards swarmed on her with the hand scanner, until she pulled the legal paper out of her pocket. "I'm so sorry," she chirped, for all the world nothing more than an inconvenienced vacationer. I just had surgery—they had to put in a metal bit to keep my throat from closing." She made a face. "Some genetic trait or something, I guess. I have the papers here, if you want to check." Saige laughed as one of the guards scanned the paper. "Don't worry guys; I won't be pulling it out of my neck!"

With a grunt, the guard let her breeze past. Silas leaned down to whisper in her ear as they continued up the escalators. "That was close."

Her answer was a shrug. The monk was about to ask what was wrong, but suddenly the Bluetooth that he had completely forgotten about crackled to life. "Saige? Silas? Where are y'all?"

Before he could answer, Saige plucked the device out of his ear—as they passed by a small decorative fountain, she threw them both in, not even stopping to watch them fizzle and die. She glanced at Silas. "I guess they're up."

There were no more disturbances as they boarded the airplane, taking seats on the far right. Silas found himself looking out the window as the stewardesses went over the safety procedures, and jerked out of his reverie as Saige gently elbowed him. "I'm going to the bathroom before we take off. I'll be right back."

He nodded, and Saige slipped out of her seat, heading for the front of the plane. Ten minutes later, as the stewardesses had finished explaining and sat down to brace for the take-off, Silas knew something was wrong. Waiting impatiently for one of the stewardesses to walk by as the plane left the ground, he finally flagged one down. "Excuse me; are there any bathrooms near the front of the plane?"

The woman frowned. "If you had paid attention, sir," she told him impatiently, "You would have heard that no, there are no lavatories near the front of the aircraft."

Silas waited until she had walked away before snatching Saige pack and all-but tearing it open. It was full of towels, with a small note perched on top. Picking it up, his heart sank into his stomach as he read.

_Silas,_

_I'm so sorry for lying to you, but I had to. I've involved you in something much, much larger than I had thought, and I don't want to risk your life for my family's......issues. By now you've probably realized that I'm no longer on the plane—which actually will take you to Zurich. Once you cross into Switzerland's airspace, no one can touch you. _

_God, I'm so sorry for doing this, and I know you'll hate me, but I have to protect you from my brother. Please forgive me. _

_Saige_

* * *

Marie was waiting for her in the kitchen when she got home. The flashlight flicked on, and Saige knew she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar—or in the cupboard that had the matches, sugar and various other kitchen necessities, as it were.

"You did it." As usual, Marie seemed to know already.

Saige nodded, her throat stubbornly refusing words. "I had to. You know that I had to."

"I know." There was a pause as she looked at Saige's bag. "Do you have to do this, too?"

The exorcist smiled tightly. "I thought my throwing away the Bluetooth was clear enough." She hesitated. "Are you going to stop me?"

"Should I?" Marie's expression was calm, but her eyes were begging her friend to reconsider.

A shrug. "Probably, if you plan on seeing me again."

Marie sighed and stood. Saige flinched as she came closer, but relaxed as her friend hugged her. The Frenchwoman noticed there were tears running down the other girl's cheeks. "Good luck," she whispered in the albino's ear.

Saige nodded and slipped out the door. If Marie's bare arms weren't warm from where they'd held the girl a few seconds ago, she'd have sworn that Saige hadn't been there at all. The woman sighed—perhaps she hadn't.

* * *

REVIEW DAMNIT!

_Or no more chapters for you!_

_Kit &_ Violet


	24. Chapter 24

_Yeah, I know it's short, but I'm writer-blocked and tired. Writing is the least of my worries! But now I feel guilty because I got tons of reviews and I'm posting an itty-bitty cliffhanger!_

The good-ish news is that Adrienne comes back!

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

* * *

The woman across the aisle from him shot him another glare as Silas's armrest creaked under the strain of his fingers. The entire trip he had stared straight ahead, his fingers tightened on the leather, making it squeak. The woman sighed loudly again, finally turning back to her book, and Silas barely noticed.

_Why?_ In the past few hours, that was the only coherent thought that flickered past his mind. Why? What had she been thinking? Didn't she trust him? Why did she leave? He grit his teeth. And why the hell didn't he check the damn tickets!

"Sir?"

A hand touched his arm and Silas flinched, grabbing the plastic fork from the airplane dinner he hadn't touched and holding it like a weapon. The stewardess frowned. "Would you like me to take that, sir?"

Releasing his death grip on the fork, Silas nodded slowly. As the woman took the plate, the pilot's voice droned from the cockpit. "We'll be landing in fifteen minutes. Please fasten your seatbelts."

Silas's hands numbly dropped to his waist to fasten the belt, only to pause when he realized he hadn't even taken it off. The plane jolted down to the landing strip, the wheels screeching over the dying roar of the engines as they drove into the terminal. The seatbelt light clicked off, and Silas stood, grabbing his bag as well as Saige's—with the note, towels, and over five hundred dollars' worth of francs that he had found in the bottom of the bag.

People jostled past him in their hurry off the plane, but Silas didn't notice. He didn't notice the bright lights of the airport, or the crying of various small children scattered through the terminal. Silas did notice, however, the woman waiting for him by the gate.

He also noticed the gun in her coat pocket.

* * *

_Kit &_ Violet


	25. Chapter 25

Hey guys! Happy Thanksgiving!

_We don't actually celebrate, but my grandma's birthday is right after Thanksgiving, so we celebrate that instead. _

And get yummy Russian food.

_So anyway, enjoy and review!_

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual. Adrienne is Dessdemondra's.**_

* * *

Adrienne smiled as he walked past her. She matched his step almost immediately, covertly pressing the gun to him. The gun bit into his back as Adrienne leaned closer. "Now, here's what's going to happen. You and I are going to calmly walk out of this airport—no fuss, no noise, no problems. Then you and I will get into the black car waiting for us outside the airport—no fuss, no noise, no problems. Try anything and I will plug you full of holes, understood?"

Slowly, Silas nodded.

Satisfied, Adrienne led them out of the airport and to a discreet black car that was waiting in the parking lot. Shoving him inside, she climbed in after him and snapped something to the driver—who seemed to have no problem with his employer shoving hostages into the backseat. They briskly pulled out of the airport lot.

They were silent for the longest amount of time before Adrienne smiled. "So, how _are_ you doing?" When Silas remained silent, she frowned. "I suppose Aringarosa didn't teach you any manners, did he? Oh well." There was another pause and then she asked, "You wouldn't happen to know where my future sister-in-law is, would you?"

Silas tensed and Adrienne laughed. "Even killers got a soft spot, huh? How _is_ Saige, Silas?"

"I won't play your mind games," Silas snapped, "I'll be seeing her soon enough."

The girl frowned, then her eyes widened, realization hitting. "Oh! You think we have her?" She laughed, batting a hand at him. "Silas, you're such a kidder! Stefan has no idea where Saige is!" She made a little shocked face. "Unless of course you mean that we're going to kill you. I had no idea that Saige was—"

"She isn't," Silas cut in with finality, ignoring his own doubt.

_Isn't she?_

* * *

They were silent for the rest of the car ride, Silas staring blindly out the window as buildings and signs rushed by. What did the people on the street see? A black car weaving through traffic? A young couple sitting in the back, in the throws of a lovers' spat?

They had no idea.

The brakes grinded under him as the car slowed to a stop in front of a large hotel. The monk jumped as the locks popped open on his door, and he briefly contemplated kicking open the door and running for it.

"Go ahead and try it," Adrienne drawled nonchalantly as the driver helped her out of car. "If you run, I'm sure to hit someone in the crowd."

_Damn._ Slowly, Silas climbed out of the car—Adrienne had already crossed to his side, and her gun was already digging into his spine. The girl smiled at the doorman who let them into the hotel, and then no one glanced at them as they got into the elevator, Adrienne jamming the button for the top floor with her thumb. They rode in relative silence, but Silas's heart was racing. Who was waiting for them at the top? Stefan? Aringarosa? The police? Any combination of the three was less that good.

The elevator dinged briefly, and Silas blinked in surprise. He had expected to step out into a hallway, but he walked straight into an expansive living room. The elevator doors closed behind him and Adrienne stepped away from him, stretching out on one of the couches. Silas simply stared.

"Nice, isn't it?"

The albino resisted the urge to jump out of his skin as a voice to his left startled him. Stefan was lounging on one of dozens of couches and chairs scattered across the room, nursing a glass of wine. He smiled, "Drink?" but before Silas could answer, he smirked. "Oh, that's right. You don't."

Silas chose not to answer, and Saige's brother pouted. "Saige could have had this, you know. I mean, have you _seen_ the Pope? My sister can talk to God—which, might I add, the Pope can _not_ do—and she's living underground, basically. And, she won't let our little brother have a better life than that."

"So you're doing this out of the kindness of your heart?" Silas snapped. "You almost killed us because you want Saige to live like a queen?"

There was a pause and Stefan laughed. "Aren't we defensive?" Suddenly, his eyes widened and he stood up, the wine sloshing in his glass. "Oh my God. You're in love with my sister."

"She saved my life." Silas insisted.

Stefan crossed over to him, leaning close enough that Silas could smell the alcohol on his breath. "But you don't deny it?"

The albino said nothing.

Stefan laughed. "Oh my God, _now _I know why Aringarosa likes you so much! You're _such _an _idiot_! Did you think Saige _loves _you? That she _cares _about you as a _person_? You're so _stupid_." He leaned closer to the other man and hissed, "The _only _reason my little sister didn't let you die is because you reminded her so much of her precious boyfriend!" He stood, gesturing dramatically. "I mean, you look _just_ like him—you even have the same _name_! You've got to admit, the odds are unbelievable! How was my little sister supposed to resist such a strong memory?" Stefan glanced up at Adrienne, who was lounging on one of the couches. "You remember Sylas, don't you?"

Adrienne moaned. "Oh _yeah_. If I remember right, he wasn't all that hard to torture."

Stefan grinned. "A few poisonous packages on my part, a few _visits _on yours......."

Adrienne stretched and took another sip of her cocktail. "My back hurts just remembering that." She pouted. "Didn't expect him to shoot himself, though." She sighed. "But he never did have much of a backbone."

"That's—" _That's a lie!_, Silas wanted to shout. But what did he know?

Leaning back towards Silas again, Stefan whispered traitorously, "Do you get it now? Saige doesn't care about you; she cares about who you remind her of. You're nothing but a ghost to her—the ghost of the guy she loved." The young man stretched and crossed back over to Adrienne, wrapping his arm around her waist. The wineglass in his other hand shattered in his grip. "Now get the hell out of my hotel room."

* * *

"Happy birthday, Sylas."

Saige dropped her pack next to the grave and sat down, her eyes fixed on the heartless gray stone. The wind tore through the trees above her and sparked a shower of orange leaves. The exorcist cleared her throat. "I'm sorry I haven't come to visit before."

There was another silence as the wind howled, and then Saige's voice cut through the cold air. "I never told you I loved you, did I? That entire year and a half, I never once said it. I'm sorry for that." She took in a deep breath. "I'm also sorry for never telling you. I thought that I could just slam the door in Stefan's face—in my father's, too. In my own perverse way, I wanted to protect you. I was selfish and thought that the nightmare would just go away. But nightmares have a way of slipping through the cracks—tormenting you when you think you're awake and then surprise! It's just been a nightmare all along, no matter what pretty things you conjure to cover it up."

The tombstone stared back at her, the grainy face betraying nothing. Saige sighed. "And then Silas came along, and I thought I could have it—us—again. But I was so, so wrong." She closed her eyes, waiting a long minute to open them again. "He's been hurt by so many people—people he trusted. And I just couldn't put him through it; I was too late to save you, but I'm cutting him off at the pass. I don't want to become one of those people that he trusts that then cut him down." She laughed, her voice cracking and her throat dry. "I'd rather have him hate me than love me."

Saige smiled tightly. "Silas is stubborn, though. He wants to help me, and I love him for it." Her eyes widened and she paused. "I never realized that before." She rummaged for something in her pocket, pulling out a picture. It was the photo Noah had snapped on the boat—when she had lost her balance on a breaking wave and Silas had caught her. "He followed me across the ocean, and I dumped him on a plane as far away from me as possible."

The tombstone didn't have an answer, but the harsh British wind did. It snatched the photo from her hand, slapping it against the tombstone. Taking it back, Saige's eyes hardened. "But you know what, Sylas? I don't regret it. Not one bit. Because I know I'm not coming back, and I don't want him to see it." She stood, taking her pack and throwing it over her shoulder. "You always know what to say. Thank you."

As she walked away, the tombstone didn't answer. But standing behind it, Sylas smiled.

* * *

_Review! _

_Kit &_ Violet


	26. Chapter 26

_Hey guys. I'm really sorry it's been a while, but I'm really writer-blocked and my great-grandpa in Ukraine just died and my dad and I got in a huge fight (in which that asshole once again proved that he is mentally incapable of participating in normal human life and needs to get commited). Here you go, though, and I hope you enjoy it._

And review, goddamnit!

**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**

_Merde: Shit_

* * *

Bells were tolling on the edge of Silas's consciousness as worshippers burst from out of the church across the street. The priest was shouting reminders for that night's service, but they sounded like white noise in Silas's ears. People who glanced at him paled and rushed out of his way, reminding him of his days in Marseilles as a ghost.

He would have liked to say that Stefan had just been playing with him, messing with his mind, but he couldn't. _Grow up,_ part of him chastised; _you knew Saige's fiancé killed himself._

"But I didn't know how!" he snapped, startling a passerby. No one told him how.....in fact, it hadn't even been _Saige_ who'd told him. What in the world had he gotten tangled in? He was on the outside looking in, catching bits and pieces of conversation as people came and went, trying to piece together the history of a woman he didn't even know—but one that saved his life. He was reading a book, but he didn't know the language it was written in, picking out words that looked familiar and praying they made sense.

"Peace be with you!"

Silas jumped as the voice boomed too close to him, and realized that he had somehow crossed the street. The priest glanced at him, and Silas nodded numbly, passing him. It wasn't until the hand grabbed his shoulder that he turned, eyes flashing with confused rage. Suddenly, the face of the other man pierced through the fog in his head. "Thomas?"

The man smiled. "Naturally. Gunner sent people after us; Dora, Michael, Hector and I had to hide out here."

_Gunner._ The codename they'd used to describe Stefan, because Silas didn't know him yet.

Because he wasn't one of them. Just a ghost.

Suddenly, Silas realized just how tired he was, and his knees gave way, colliding with the cement. Thick arms wrapped under his shoulders, hauling him up. Thomas grunted, "Easy now."

"I know everything," Silas gasped, black dots dancing in his vision.

Thomas frowned. "Let's get you out of here."

* * *

Silas sat bolt upright, and his head spun from the effort of crossing his eyes to stare at the cup that had been thrust in his face. "Drink."

The events of the last few days still fuzzy, Silas took the cup and drank, loosing half the mouthful as he gasped—the rest of the liquid burning a trail down his throat. "What—what is this?!" he sputtered.

The person by his bed—Father Michael, his mind supplied—smiled. "Rum. Strong, I know, but it's Portuguese." At Silas's surprised expression, he shrugged. "Dora's orders. Something about TLC."

"TLC?" Silas asked, even more confused that he was before, his head spinning from the remnants of sleep and thick, syrupy rum.

"Tough loving care," Father Michael smiled. "Just rest, Silas. If you don't mind my saying it, you do indeed look like hell."

Silas laughed, wincing at how raw his throat was. There was a long pause, but before Father Michael stood up, Silas blurted, "I saw Stefan."

The priest paused, then sat down again. "Tell me everything."

The monk told him everything, wincing as he recounted Stefan's words. Father Michael's face gradually grew paler until Silas finished—the priest put his head in his hands and muttered, "Stupid, stupid, stupid Saige! What is she thinking?"

Silas considered whether or not he had a right to ask, and said, "Why does she do these things? Is she really ready to throw her life away?"

Michael shrugged. "I don't know. She's always been that way, and after Sylas died, it was even worse. She's punishing herself, protecting everyone."

"It's not healthy."

The other man sighed. "Don't I know it." He glanced at the clock. "In the meantime, you should rest."

The last thing he remembered, Silas had opened his mouth to argue, but the next moment, sleep grabbed at him.

* * *

"We should take him back."

"No, you shouldn't. We should call the police and get rid of him."

"Dora, you know as well as I do that _we_ can't call the police."

"Alright then. I don't need cops to take care of loose ends."

"Dora!"

"Don't 'Dora' me, Marie Antoinette! We all know exactly why Saige saved that man—we all know exactly who she's seeing. Her judgment is clouded beyond measure!"

"Saige has her reasons, Dora! We have to trust her on this!"

Silas became aware of the angry voices outside his door as he slowly came-to. If his ears were to be trusted, Marie had arrived—and Dora was not happy.

"Saige is _sick_, Marie. You can't honestly stand here and tell me that you ever expect to see her again. Ever since Stefan began his vendetta against her, she's never been right in the head. This copycat coming along was just the final domino."

"She's not insane!" Marie snapped. "If you don't trust her to keep her head, fine by me! You can sit here and rot for all I give a damn! I don't know what Saige is doing, but I know she has a good reason for it! If you want to doubt her, than you can go try to stop her yourself! In the goddamned meantime, I am taking Silas back to the States—and I dare you to try to stop me!"

There was a long pause as Silas waited for either woman to speak, and then Dora sighed. "Fine. Do what you want, but nothing good is going to come from keeping him alive."

His door creaked open and Silas shut his eyes, hearing the footstep come near him. Dora's voice startled him. "Get up—I know you're awake."

Sitting up, Silas caught a glimpse of Marie waiting outside the door. She smiled. "_Mon dieu_, Silas, it's good to see you again!" She glanced at Dora as the woman shuffled past her into the hallway. "Come on. Our flight leaves in two hours, and I want to be back on American ground as soon as I can."

"What the hell do you mean, Saige isn't coming back?"

Marie paused and looked uncomfortable. "The stuff Saige took when she left the house," the Frenchwoman cleared her throat, "They can be used to make incendiaries."

"And no one _saw_ her when she left?" Silas didn't know whether it was the rum or the exhaustion—or both—that sparked his anger, but once he started, he couldn't stop.

"It was the middle of the night, Silas."

"How did you know that?" Both of them could hear the accusation in his voice, but Marie didn't call him on it. There was another long pause as Silas stood, glancing out the barred window—_very subtle, Dora_—at the street below. "What would happen to me if I walked out, right now?"

The woman sighed. "No one would stop you."

"Aside from Dora and the shotgun I'm sure she must have."

Marie smiled faintly. "Assuming you got past Dora, yes. Nothing would happen to you."

"No one would care? If I walked out right now and never came back? And everyone would move on and forget that I was even here?"

"Saige would care."

Silas sighed, his fists clenched. "And that's what matters, doesn't it?" He turned to face her. "I really look just like him?"

"Older. But yes, just like him."

Silas sat down on the bed and buried his head in his hands. "I don't know what to do. I can't just go along with it, can I? It's just too complicated!" He looked up briefly and made a face. "It's like a damn soap-opera."

There was another silence, and Silas flinched as a hand was placed on his shoulder. "Like I said, Silas, no one will stop you if you curse us all out and go live your own life. I'll leave you the plane ticket, though. The flight leaves at noon, but if you don't want to take it, I'm sure Michael and Hector will get you where you want to go." She sighed. "But if you do, I'll see you at the gate."

And then she was gone.

* * *

Silas absently thanked the cabby as he climbed out of the car, the airport looming over him. Here he was. No going back now. Squaring his shoulders and inconspicuously checking the dye on his face, he strode into the airport.

Marie was waiting for him by the gate, her carry-on bag clenched tightly in her fists as she stared into the distance. She let out a sigh of relief as he sat down next to her. "I thought you weren't coming."

Silas laughed, attracting several peeved stares. "So did I."

"So then why the hell are you here?"

The man paused. "Saige. I need to slap her the next time I see her."

There was a long silence, and Silas began to worry until Marie smiled tiredly and quipped, "Get in line."

* * *

The flight was uneventful aside from a bumpy take-off, and Silas almost began to relax, sinking into his seat and watching the clouds. It wasn't until the pilot turned on the seatbelt light that apprehension began to curl in the pit of his stomach.

It grew as the plane jolted to a stop and he and Marie collected their small bags. The cold air chilled his arms as he and the Frenchwoman wound through the small tunnel from the plane door to the gate, and as they came closer, Silas could hear the buzzing of conversation. He stopped—_lots_ of conversation.

Marie glanced back at him. "Something wrong?"

Silas shook his head. "I don't know."

Frowning, Marie adjusted the bag on her shoulder, and they stepped out into the terminal. Immediately, the pounding warning bells in Silas's head went off, and he spotted the matching dark blue uniforms waiting in front of the crowd. _Cops._

Marie saw them the same moment he did. _"Merde."_

One of the officers approached them. "Silas, Marie Antoinette, you two are under arrest."

* * *

REVIEW!

_Kit &_ Violet


	27. Chapter 27

_Ugh....tired, sleepy, exhausted, muscles straining......._

That's what you get for deciding to go running in 12 DEGREE WEATHER!

_Well it's not like I wanted to stay inside.......you, Bianca and Kirsten rushing around like headless chickens._

We're going to a PARTY, Kit! We gotta get ready!

_The party is at SEVEN. Two hours and forty minutes away!_

We still have to drive there!

_It's a five minute drive. _

Oh shut up and introduce the chapter.

_(smirks archily) Enjoy the chapter! The Dolphin to the rescue!_

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

Bianca and Kirsten here. Just wanted to say hi. Those girls are hilarious, ain't they?

* * *

Silas stared absently at the gray cement wall through harsh metal bars as he and Marie were crammed into a small holding cell. The Frenchwoman had yet to say a word since they were caught in the airport, and the blood had drained from her face. Silas had watched her slowly crumble as the cop refused to give her a phone call—they'd _barely_ let her speak to a lawyer for five minutes—and absently wondered why he hadn't started panicking.

"How the _hell_ are you not panicking?!"

Marie's sharp voice snapped him from his reverie. Silas shrugged. "Inevitable, I guess."

"Jesus Christ, you're giving _up_?"

"Do you have a better idea, Marie?" he inquired gently, his voice monotone.

She growled. "Silas, listen to me! We are in _jail_. Things are _not_ looking good. They will give you the _death sentence_, mark my words." Marie paused and swallowed thickly. "Hell, they'll probably give me the death sentence."

Silas sat up, his shirt scraping against the rough wall. "What're you accused of?"

"Manslaughter."

The monk blinked. "I'm sorry, _what_?"

Marie frowned. "My ex came after me one night with a semi-automatic. Chased me out on the balcony." She paused and grinned tightly. "My apartment was on the tenth floor, and it was the middle of winter. Cement gets unnaturally slippery in the winter."

"Oh." There was a moment's silence before Silas asked, "She couldn't have done it, could she?"

The exorcist looked confused, but then she scowled. "No, Silas. I don't think she could have done _this_ to us."

"She seemed to have no problem abandoning me on a plane."

Marie didn't respond, and somewhere down the hall, someone flicked the lights off. Darkness engulfed the pair, and Silas let out a deep breath. "Now what?"

"Now, we wait."

* * *

"Hey, you, wake up!"

Silas's eyes cracked open as something prodded him in the chest. Glancing up at the cops leering down at him, he stood, careful of Marie, who had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder. The guard grinned wider. "Someone's here to see you."

Slowly, the monk followed the man past half a dozen other cells—as he walked, he gradually heard shouting. A familiar voice was arguing with someone just beyond the door.

"—got the wrong damn guy!"

Silas blinked in surprise as he spotted Robert Langdon leaning over the desk of the police chief. His hair was disheveled and his cheeks were burning—he looked very angry.

Robert let out an exasperated sigh and straightened, raking a hand through his hair. As he did so, his eyes caught Silas's. He sighed again and crossed the room, startling both Silas and the guard as the professor squeezed the albino's hand and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Jesus, man, I'm really sorry!" He gestured at the police officer. "I've been trying to tell these guys that you aren't the one they want." When Silas didn't respond, Langdon squeezed his hand a little tighter, but his grin stubbornly remained. His eyes flashed, the message clear—_play along_. "You don't happen to be a crazy monk named Silas, do you?"

Stunned, Silas numbly shook his head no.

Langdon threw his arms up in the air. "You see?" he snapped at the man behind the desk. "I'm telling you, that's not him."

The man looked harassed. "Are you sure, sir?"

Langdon laughed mockingly. "Am I _sure_? Of course I'm _sure_, damnit! That crazy monk tried to kill me, and you think that I'd let him walk out of jail if this man," he jabbed a finger at Silas, who flinched, "was the guy?!" He crossed his arms over his chest, impertinently glaring at the officer.

After a few moments of silence, the officer behind the desk waved his hand, and Silas felt the grip on his arms release. He looked up at Langdon—who winked. "Thank you."

Langdon grinned. "No problem, man." There was a pause, and then the professor cleared his throat. "Want a ride home? It's the least I can do." Silas nodded.

They had just stepped for the door when a shriek rang against walls of the jail. Seconds later, a harried jailer ran in. "Antoinette just passed out—she's convulsing all over the place! Bitch has epilepsy, I swear!"

Silas moved to take a step back, but Langdon's hand tightened on his elbow. "Right on cue, as always," he murmured as he steered Silas out the door.

* * *

_Enjoy!_

Review!

Wish us luck get Kit into a dress! (B & K again!)

_The **HELL**you will!_

_Kit & _Violet (& Bianca & Kirsten......because we're in on these lovely girls' fics!)


	28. Chapter 28

_In a rush........but have a nice cliffie for you all. First post of the new year!!_

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

* * *

Silas waited until they had put a good mile between the car and the police station before demanding, "What the _hell_ was _that_?!"

Langdon glanced at him as he swerved to avoid traffic. "If you'd like, I can put you back in jail."

"You know damn well I'm not talking about that! I'm talking about getting arrested, having you yank me out, and leaving Marie—who's apparently having a heart attack!"

The professor checked his rearview mirror and signaled to turn. "Have I ever mentioned that Olivia and Sally-Anne intern at the local hospital? The only one within two miles of the sheriff's office and the prison?"

The information took a few moments to process in Silas's mind. He leaned back against the seat, helpless. "You-you _planned_ this?" he asked weakly. "How did you _know_? How in the world can you _do_ this?"

Robert sighed. "They're my friends—my family in some ways, and they've all had brushes with the law. It's the least I can do to help them." Silas waited for him to elaborate on that strange comment, but he didn't. "Bianca and Chartrand were waiting for Marie to call when she landed, and when she didn't; we realized something had happened to her. And then we saw the news."

"But Marie didn't call anyone! They wouldn't let anyone near her except for the lawyer!"

"Chartrand pulls off a suit nicely, doesn't he?"

"Unbelievable. Unbe-_lievable_." There was another moment of silence, before Silas frowned. "You were waiting for _her_ to call."

"Mm-hm."

"And when _she_ didn't call, you knew something had happened to _her_."

"That's right." Langdon glanced at him, as if you say; _you going somewhere with this?_

The monk sighed. "None of you expected me to come with her, did you?"

Robert smiled sheepishly. "We'd figured you'd cut and run."

He scowled. "Nice to know you think so highly of my moral values."

"You tried to kill me; you have no morals."

"I tried to kill you because I had morals! And you were slandering the name of God!"

The other man arched an eyebrow. "And that give you an excuse for murder?"

Silas huffed, angry he had even begun the conversation. The rest of the car ride was silent, until they pulled up to the house. The lights were off, and the doorknob opened at the slightest touch. Both men paused at the door, cautiously squinting into the darkness.

"Are y'all goin' to just stand there, or are y'all comin' in?

The two of them nearly jumped out of their skins as the voice came from the darkness, followed by a small light. "The power's out."

Langdon rubbed a hand over his face as he stepped in, embarrassed he'd hesitated. "So you don't lock the door?"

Sally-Anne grinned. "Scared ya, didn't we?" She handed each of them a flashlight. "Noah's asleep—just barely, though. We don't want him waking up."

The Texan led them into the pitch-black living room, but as they walked in, multiple flashlights came on. A pair of arms wrapped around his neck, and Silas jumped as Marie hugged him. "Thank God."

"Jaysus! Look what the cat dragged in!" Silas turned, seeing Bianca's illuminated face in the corner. "You look like shite, Silas."

He grinned. "At least I wasn't shot."

There was a moment of silence, but Bianca made a face at him. "Shut up." Another pause, and she asked, quietly, "I don't suppose you have Saige in your pocket, do you?"

"No."

"So we were right." That was Chartrand. "She's going to kill Stefan."

"How does she expect to do that?" Olivia was perched on an armchair. "Does she even know where he is? She'll never get close enough. This is a suicide mission, and we all know it."

As Portrait's words faded into the darkness, the floorboards above them creaked. Marie sighed. "Well, we should—"

A sharp ringing startled them all as it echoed through the house. Sally-Anne's hand flew to her pocket, where a cell phone buzzed incessantly. Flipping it open, she put the phone to her ear. "Hello?" After a moment's silence, she paled and pulled the phone away, turning the speaker-phone on. Marie glanced at the caller-ID. "It's Dora!"

But it wasn't the Timekeeper's voice that came through the speakers—it was Saige's. "Me? Crazy?" the girl sighed. "You're probably right, Dora."

"She forwarded the call to us," Chartrand hissed, his eyes locked on the phone. He glanced at Silas. "Quiet."

"You'll never get close enough to him," Dora argued, sounding aggravated, "You'll be picked off."

Saige laughed and Silas winced—she sounded tired and winded. "Probably, but at least I'll have said I tried." The exorcist sighed. "I'm just so tired of running, Dora. I just want this all to end."

"And so going off on a suicide mission is your choice? You're sick, Saige!"

"All the more reason."

"What about Noah? His mother was insane, his father is supposedly dead, and the brother he doesn't know he has is out to kill you both! What happens if you fail? What happens if Stefan comes after Noah? Can you honestly say that you're willing to die knowing that?"

There was silence from the third phone, and Dora continued, knowing she had the girl. "And what about Silas?"

"What about Silas?"

"You dragged him into this mess, and the Saige I know wouldn't just leave him in the middle of all this in good conscience."

There was another pause, and a loud crash came from one of the phones. Angry yelling echoed through the phone, and Saige swore. "So close." There was a brief scuffling noise, and then the woman cleared her throat. "Hey guys. I know you're listening, and I know you think I'm going insane. But I have to make this stop. There's so much I haven't told you, and I hate the fact that I had to lie to you all. I'm not who I've told you I am, and I can't, but you need to know that I....." the phone hissed static for a moment, "Marie, I put you in a tough spot, and I'm sorry. I really ought to apologize to all of you." She coughed, and something in the background crashed. "Silas, I love you, and I can't say sorry enough. I'd say that I wished to see you all soon, but I'd be lying." The line went dead.

* * *

_How do you like them apples?_

_Kit_


	29. Chapter 29

_Right, right, blah, blah, blah, I sincerely beg your pardon and all that jazz........_

Bluntly, hey, we're back, but we couldn't help being gone so long.

Anyway, that's why we're posting two chapters.

_I honestly can't believe how long this has become, but we'll probably be wrapping it up in four or five chapters, and then we'll be back in the Hellboy fandom._

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

* * *

They stared at the phone for another minute as the dial tone blared and the recorded voice announced that if they wanted to make a call, they'd have to hang up and try again. Bianca finally broke the silence. "What the _shite_ did Saige mean; she wasn't who she said she was?"

"Is!" Sally-Anne snapped. "She _isn't_ who she _says_ she _is_!"

"How the hell do we know that?" Chartrand demanded, "Apparently we didn't know her at all!"

"She had to have had a good reason to lie to us," Olivia insisted.

"Oh really?" Chartrand drawled, sarcastic, "What would that be then, Olivia? Check your sketchbook; maybe God's told you!"

A sharp _crack_ echoed through the silent living room, and it took Silas a moment to realize that Marie had slapped Chartrand. "Shut the hell up," the Frenchwoman hissed, "I won't have any of your idiotism here." She turned to face everyone. "I don't think I need to remind _any_ of you that the only reason we are all here _together_—and not _rotting_ in roadside trenches or jails—is because Saige sought us all out. And," whirling on Chartrand again, "I don't think I have to remind _you_—a Swiss Guard, protector of the _Pope_—that using God's name is vain is a _capital sin_." She snapped the phone shut, cutting off the tone, and continued, "Now, every last one of us is going to go to sleep _right_ now. We lock the doors, we turn off the phones, and we lay low. Tomorrow morning, when all of us have calmed down, we will decide what to do next." Glaring at Chartrand, "And any of you that don't like it, the door is just down the hall."

No one moved for the door.

* * *

"Silas? Are you awake?"

Silas glanced across the darkened room at Noah. In the three hours since Marie had ordered them all upstairs, he hadn't been able to even close his eyes. "Yes?"

"Where's my sister?" Noah rolled over, and Silas could see the green of his irises in the moonlight. What color would Saige's eyes have been, if she wasn't sick like him? Would they be like Noah's? Where did Noah get his, even? From his father? With a jolt, Silas realized he hadn't even seen the color of Saige's father's eyes. Come to think of it, did he know _anything_ about _any_ of the people he'd ever tried to kill?

The monk sighed. "I don't know, Noah."

The boy's next question caught the monk by surprise. "Were you and Saige going to get married?"

The air in Silas's throat seemed to escape, and he choked. "W-What?!"

"When you left, Saige was really upset. She may be fourteen years older than me, but I know she really, really likes you." Silas could hear the frown in Noah's voice. "But now she left."

There was a long pause and Silas sighed. "I'll marry her when she gets back, Noah." Right now he'd promise anything to get a moment's peace. He'd regret it later, but peace was worth anything right now.

The boy sat up. "Really?"

"Of course. Because she _is_ coming back." He turned to look at him, ignoring the guilt that bit at him. "And i—_when_ she does, I'll marry her, okay?"

Noah flopped down onto the bed with a muffled, "Sweet!", and Silas sighed again, the unspoken _if_ weighing down in his mind.

* * *

_Sorry it's short._

_Kit &_ Violet


	30. Chapter 30

OMFG, 30 chapters!

_Wow......._

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual. Oh, and Olivia's a bitch this time.**_

* * *

Silas knocked quietly on the door of Bianca's room, prying open the door with one hand, the other balancing his load. Bianca scowled as Silas sat down next to her, holding a bottle and a spoon. "Since when were you put on 'feed Bianca the nasty-ass medicine even if you have to chain her to the bed and pry her mouth open with the jaws-of-life' duty?"

Silas grinned. "Since you got shot and this 'nasty-ass medicine' prevents infections." Pouring some of the acrid black medicine onto a spoon, he held it out to her. "Now open up."

The Irishwoman pressed her lips into a thin line and muttered through grit teeth, "Why should I?" She smirked. "Although I wouldn't mind you chaining me to the bed."

The albino rolled his eyes, trying to play off the bright red blush spreading on his cheeks. "I'm sure Chartrand would. And besides, I know where to find jaws-of-life, and I won't hesitate to use them."

There was a pause, and the girl sighed. "You can say it; we're all thinking it."

Silas frowned. "We'll never really know who Saige really was, will we?"

Snatching the bottle from his hand—and smiling as he almost dropped the spoon—Bianca took a deep swallow of the medicine. Making a face, she nodded. "No—considering the stuff she took. Sugar, potassium, rubbing alcohol, matches. Stefan's planning on killing her, and she's planning on taking him with her. She's not coming back."

"She's being an idiot."

Bianca's eyes widened. "I know that—we all know that. But how are we going to stop her? We don't even know where she is." She paused. "We don't even know _who _she is."

There was a long silence, and then Silas and Bianca jumped as a voice from the doorway. "Why would she do that?"

Silas looked up to see the Frenchwoman leaning against the door. "Oh, Olivia."

"I mean," Portrait continued as she crossed the room and sank onto the bed, Bianca scooting out of her way, "why would she _lie_ to us? Didn't she trust _us_? And even if she _was_ lying to us, why tell everyone? Marie's positively derailed, and can you imagine when _Aunt Dora_ hears? Or does Aunt Dora know?" Olivia gasped, her watery eyes wide. "What happens if Noah finds out? She's his hero!"

"Livy, Livy," Bianca soothed, "Calm down. I'm sure Saige has a good reason."

"That's what Marie and Robert are saying, O'Adderly!" Olivia snapped and Bianca winced as her surname was pulled into the fray, "But no one knows what that 'good reason' is! And how can you call her _Saige_?! That's not even her name!"

"Olivia," Silas tried, "We know Saige isn't her real name." He glanced at the Irishwoman. "Her name is Sasha, right?"

"What the hell do you know, anyway, Silas?!" Olivia shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks. "How long have you even known her, or us? A few months; that's how long! You don't know anything about any of us!" She paused, hands on her hips and scowled. "How the hell are you alright with any of this anyway?" A harsh, cutting laugh. "But I suppose being a cold-blooded killer does that to people. Aringarosa must've beaten human emotion out of you—or did your father beat him to it?"

"Olivia!" Bianca snapped as the girl turned on her heel and left. The woman turned to Silas. "She didn't mean that."

"Yes, she did."

"No, Silas, she didn't." Bianca scowled. "We're all angry. It's just that some of us _know how to handle the pressure_," she yelled the last bit of the sentence.

A slamming door a floor above them was her answer.

* * *

Silas open Internet Explorer, feeling slightly guilty for stealing Langdon's computer—guilty about stealing from _that_ man, what a breakthrough—and logging onto the guest account. He came onto the Google main page, and typed 'Yevgeni Artemiev' into the search engine.

The number of results was staggering. Skimming through them, Silas learned that Yevgeni Artemiev was a wealthy oil tycoon—dumb luck finding a reserve of oil under his great-grandfather's farm—who had three children; Stefan, Anastacia and Noah. No mention of any daughter named Alexandra or Sasha. His wife had been a diagnosed schizophrenic who had disappeared on the eve of Anastacia's sixteenth birthday—which had put Yevgeni under intense scrutiny because of allegations from an unknown source that he had _murdered_ his wife. Shortly after, the two eldest children had disappeared as well, without a trace.

His eyes sore from the light of the screen, Silas clicked on a link entitled, _'Oil Tycoon's Daughter Follows Brother's Footsteps, Slips Through Fingers'_. The newspaper article flashed in front of his eyes as it finished loading.

"_Not a month after Yulia Ivanovna Artemieva, wife of hella-lucky oil tycoon Yevgeni Artemiev, disappeared from their lush loft-apartment; the businessman's daughter has disappeared. Only two days after Stefan Artemiev—Anastacia's older brother, her senior by two years—was last seen, Anastacia, 16, disappeared on her way home from the institute where she had been studying on an advance scholarship; one that allowed her to skip several grades of school. Police originally thought that Anastacia's disappearance had to do with her recently revealed identity as the anonymous tipster who claimed that Yevgeni Artemiev murdered his wife and mother of his children to prevent her from going to the authorities when Yulia witnessed her husband murder a business associate. Anastacia told authorities that her mother had told her this, but police refused to accept this as evidence on account of Yulia Ivanovna's heavily medicated state of mind at the time. St. Petersburg police have also ruled out Yevgeni's involvement in his children's disappearances—the businessman provided an alibi for both evenings."_

"So now you know."

Silas jumped, his chair clattering to the ground behind him as his eyes flicked to Sally-Anne, who stood in the doorway. Guiltily, he looked at the computer screen before something occurred to him. "You _knew_?"

The Texan nodded. "One day when I visited Noah, I came to thinking that their house was mighty fancy and well-kept. So I decided to look Saige's father up. I already knew Saige's name was Sasha, so 'magine my surprise when I read Yevgeni Artemiev never _had_ a daughter named Sasha. And that's when I knew the gist of it—I pieced the rest of it together as time went on."

"And you didn't _tell_ anyone?" was Silas's whispered demand.

"Y'see, this was only a year after we'd first met up—back then we didn't quite trust each other as much as we do now. It took a lot of time savin' each other's asses and nearly gettin' caught before we figured we were better off together than alone. Back then I guess she didn't trust us much either, so why tell someone that might rat you out to your dad? And when she did finally trust us, she couldn't tell us, too. I mean, we're just barely getting to realizing we like each other, and then she drops by and goes, 'Oh, by the way, I'm not who I say I am'?" Sally-Anne shook her head. "Just wouldn't work."

"And you're the only one who knew for eight years?" Silas frowned grimly as Sally-Anne nodded. "Did Saige—?"

The Texan shrugged. "Who knows what Saige knew? She's a real twisted chick—when she called us and told us she'd picked up a stray," she winked at Silas, "not a one of us thought that she was serious. Saige's killed people in cold blood for way less than knowing her name before, Silas. You're mighty lucky you look like—"

"Stop it." Sally-Anne stopped abruptly as Silas continued, "I hate thinking that she only helped me because I looked like someone else." There was a long silence, and then Silas sighed. "Should you tell them or should I?"

"Tell us what?"

* * *

"That's—but I mean—how the hell would she—?" Bianca spluttered, trying to comprehend what Silas and Sally-Anne had just finished explaining. The three, along with Olivia, Marie, Robert and Chartrand—as well as Hector, Dora, Michael and Thomas on webcam—sat in the living room. "That girl is fecking insane!"

Marie stared out the window, watching the sun come up. "It makes so much sense now. Gunner never wanted to out us, he wanted to out _her_. And when Saige—_Anastacia_—turned him in, he got the cops and their father after her."

"He—her father—needed money when I first saw him," Silas pointed out.

"Oil reserves only last so long," Chartrand replied, "He needed money somehow."

"What if _Saige_," Dora gave them all a _question-me-I-dare-you look_ from the computer screen, "Was wrong? I met Yulia—the woman was insane."

"You don't make up stories about your husband killing people." Thomas frowned. "Or maybe you do, and it gets you killed."

"But why would he kill her if he didn't have something to hide?" Olivia asked.

Marie stood, and everyone paused, tense. With a sigh, the Frenchwoman headed for the stairs. "I'm going to check on Noah."

As the woman trudged up the stairs, Robert shook his head. "This is crazy. Shit like this only happens in movies."

"Welcome to Hollywood," Bianca quipped. She glanced up at Silas from her perch on the couch. "So what're we s'pposed to do now? Watch the news and wait them for them to report the rest of the Artemiev family dead?"

There was a long silence as Silas searched for an answer. Just as he opened his mouth, he was cut of by pounding footsteps rushing down the stairs—a second later, Marie burst down the stairs, her eyes wide and panicked. "Noah's gone."

Bianca let out an enraged yell, throwing her hands up. "What's _wrong_ with that family?!"

* * *

_Kit &_ Violet


	31. Chapter 31

_Hey! Sorry we've been gone for so long!_

The real world sort of caught up with us......guh.

_Yes, guh, indeed._

Anway, enjoy! This story is drawing to a close in a few chapters!

**_Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual_**

* * *

"What do you mean, _gone_?" Silas asked. _Oh no._

"He's not there," Chartrand confirmed as he came down the stairs, "And neither is my wallet, or Robert's phone."

"What the hell is that little kid trying to do?" Robert demanded. "Bait Saige into coming back? How would he do that? By now Saige has probably gotten a new phone, and Noah has no idea what the number is! How's he going to get a-hold of her?!"

"He's waiting for us to do it." Everyone turned to look at Marie, who'd spoken for the first time in an hour. "If anything, one of you," she glanced at Robert and Chartrand, "will report him missing. And when they put out an Amber Alert, Saige is sure to see it. She'll try all of our phones until she gets down to Robert's, which Noah has."

Bianca whistled. "You've gotta admit—he might've been a murdering psychopath, but Artemiev raised smart kids." After a moment, she added, "Damn little geniuses, there'll be wigs on the green the next time I see them."

"Well, we have to report him missing, don't we?"

Sally-Anne cleared her throat and pointed at the TV screen—she'd just turned it on. "Too late."

"—rainy and cloudy through the week. In further news, it seems America has let a young heir slip through its fingers." The newscaster paused for dramatic effect. "A TSA camera at the JFK airport spotted young Noah Artemiev—the missing son of the late Yevgeni Artemiev, who we reported on a month ago—boarding a flight to London, England early this morning. Officials didn't realize the boy's identity until the plane was in the air, but police in London have been notified." The anchorman smiled at the woman next to him. "Hopefully the boy and his family will be reunited soon, Sherry."

She smiled back. "Hopefully, Bob."

Bob turned back the screen, suddenly solemn. "However, no news on the whereabouts of his two older siblings, Stefan and Anastacia, nor on the woman who is suspected of murdering their father."

Sherry's smile was pasted back on. "Stay tuned for our guest chef—he'll show you easy-to-bake pies for the holidays!"

There was a stunned silence, and then Bianca sat up, snapping open her laptop, Chartrand at her shoulder. She grinned at Silas. "Time to show you why the coppers are after _me_." Glancing at Langdon, she asked, "Phone number?"

As Langdon told her, Silas glanced at the screen of the Irishwoman's laptop—green numbers whirled in complex patterns, and dots and lines darted by. Simultaneously, cell phones began to buzz. Silas jumped in surprise as he realized the phone that Saige gave him—that he'd kept in his jeans pocket—was ringing as well.

Marie glanced at her cell, but didn't answer. "Saige. Don't pick up." She turned to Bianca. "Have you got it?"

Bianca nodded. "Three seconds and," she paused then sat up, grinning. "We're online!" A dial tone blared through the computer speakers.

A click—a male voice picked up. "Hello?"

Olivia frowned. "That was two people. _Two_ voices just said hello."

"Noah? Where the hell are you? What the—" the volume spiked as angry Russian came spilling through the speakers, "were you _thinking_?"

Noah didn't sound perturbed as he spoke on Robert's phone. "Oh, hi Saige. Hi Gunner."

Silas's jaw dropped. "Is he _insane_?"

Robert blinked. "My phone was bugged? When the hell could Stefan have bugged my phone?"

Saige's voice sounded sharp with surprise over the phone. "Stefan? What the hell is going—?"

Stefan sounded interested—like a cat that got the cream. "I'm not sure, but I'm beginning to be intrigued. Hello, Noah."

Noah seemed to ignore their conversation. "I'm in London."

"What a coincidence. So am I."

"Stay the _hell_ away from him!"

Stefan ignored his sister. "Where are you in London, Noah?"

The boy laughed. "In a house. But I can tell you where I will be in three days."

The older man chuckled. "I'd appreciate that."

"Noah!" Saige's voice was confused, "What the hell is...." She trailed off, and gasped. "Of course!"

"I'll be in the warehouse across the street from Big Ben. Third or fourth floor," Noah stated with finality.

"Third _or_ fourth?" Stefan asked.

"I haven't decided yet." The line went dead, and Robert's phone dropped off the call list.

There was a pause, and then Stefan sneered, "See you there, sis."

Her answer was equally venomous. "Looking forward to it."

* * *

Silas didn't even wait for Bianca to close the laptop before bolting to the door. When he noticed that no one was following him, he turned. "What are we waiting for?!"

Chartrand sighed. "You have absolutely no sense of the complex outside the Bible, do you?"

Silas tensed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What he means is," Marie supplied as she got off the couch, "That this is a tight little web the three of them are weaving. Most chances are, Noah isn't going to be at that warehouse."

"Then why go?"

"Because there _is_ a chance that he _will_ be there, and Stefan can't miss that chance. And Saige?" Marie frowned. "Saige'll be there no matter what. Either she's going to get Noah, or Noah won't be there and she'll kill Stefan. Something's going to happen no matter what they do, and it's all a bet on whether or not Noah's going to show up."

"So we're going to do _nothing_?!" Silas demanded. These people's ability to detach themselves from a situation was amazing.

Marie smirked—a dark gesture that put a dangerous glint in her eye. "Well Silas, I never said that, did I?"

* * *

_Review! _

_Kit &_ Violet


	32. Chapter 32

_Dahlings!_

We're back! Please don't kill us!

_Sorry, RL was a fucking BITCH._

You guys get the idea!

_Working on plenty of shit _(because Kit is our lovely writer/artist/poet/talented bitch)_...and friends...and lovers...URGH._

_Anyway, we had to do a TRIPLE-TAKE...jumping from 71 to 103 reviews! -bows deeply- Thanks so much!_

**Warnings/Disclaimers: We own everything and everyone...but Silas and Chartrand. Fucking curse you, Dan Brown!**

* * *

"This," Langdon said, for the umpteenth time, "is a really bad idea."

Silas couldn't help but agree. The third day after arriving back in London, they'd still found no trace of any of the Artemiev children. They'd combed through all of the haunts they knew Saige—and Marie, or Olivia, or Bianca, or any of their group—liked and could have stayed at. Nothing.

Pulling his coat tighter around himself, Silas scowled as his face itched. Being out of America meant that he was back to meticulously applying dyes to exposed skin, and Silas didn't realize how much he missed that God-less country until he was slathering skin-colored cream onto his neck. "Look," he sighed, turning back to Langdon, "Maybe it would be better if we split up. Covered more ground, you know?"

Langdon gave him a strange look, and Silas almost felt bad for insulting him, but the professor nodded. "Sure." Taking off down the street, he shouted over his shoulder, "Be careful!"

Strange. Shrugging, Silas turned on his heel and continued his way, wandering the streets. They had four more days to find Saige, or Noah, or even Stefan, and they had no idea where to look. Silas himself knew that there were hundreds upon thousands of places for someone who didn't want to be seen to hide in a city this large.

"Silas!"

Chartrand and Bianca were coming down the street towards him. As they approached, Bianca frowned and snapped her phone shut—someone's voice cut off. "The Dolphin isn't with you?" It didn't sound like a question; more like a confirmation.

"No. We split up."

Again with that strange look. Bianca and Chartrand exchanged glances, and suddenly the Irishwoman grinned. "Well, like _I_ was saying, I'll be better off on my own anyway." She winked. "Easier to talk to guys. You and Silas should team up—that'd look just peculiar enough to get people to approach you. You two make a cute couple."

Silas coughed as Chartrand played with his shirt collar, red staining both their cheeks. But Chartrand nodded. "Be careful."

As she ran off, Silas eyed the other man. "I'm surprised you let her get away so easily."

Chartrand didn't look at him. "She can take care of herself."

Ten long minutes of silence ensued, and Silas was getting more uneasy by the minute. What was going on here? As Chartrand turned to ask someone if they'd seen his albino 'sister', Silas ducked off into an alley, emerging on the other side of the street and turning east.

He only managed to get two blocks before a loud voice stopped him in his tracks, cursing.

"Ho, Silas!"

Turning slowly, he watched Thomas make his way through the crowd. A large hand clapped him on the shoulder and the priest grinned. "It's good to see you again. Fancy meeting you here!"

"You've been following me. Since the Thames."

Thomas's genial expression soured. "Since King's Cross, actually."

"Why?" But as Silas asked, he realized what the answer was. "You think she's going to _kill_ me!"

A sigh—a confirmation. "You're a tantalizing target for Saige and Stefan, Silas. Stefan would love to kill you—just to stab another hole in his sister."

"And Saige?"

Thomas ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "You're a hunter, Silas. That's why Aringarosa liked you so much. What the rest of us are in trouble for? Nothing compared to Saige. She's killed people—many, many, many people. She knows how to hide, and she knows you do to. Who better to look for her? The only way I can describe Saige right now is with a psychotic break. She just wants to get away."

"So she'd _kill_ me?"

Thomas sighed again. "She just wants it to be over."

"That's what we want!" Silas couldn't understand it; they were on her side!

The priest paused, looking awkward. "No, Silas. Saige wants it all to _end_."

"Isn't that what I just—" Silas froze. "Oh. _Oh._"

End. Finish. Over. Done. Saige knew, they knew...he was the only one who hadn't seen it. No one expected Saige to come out of this alive. Silas turned on Thomas. "So you're telling me this is just a joke? Why are we searching for her, then, if she's just going to die?"

Thomas looked lost. "It's difficult to explain."

"So then don't," Silas snapped. "Next you'll tell me you've known where she is all along."

Thomas didn't answer. Silas's eyes widened. "You _have_, haven't you?"

"Silas, that's not what I—"

"Where is she?" he demanded, loud enough for passerby to turn and whisper.

The other man glanced around, anxious. "Not so loud!"

"Tell me or I'll yell it for the entire square to hear."

There was a long pause as Thomas considered his options. Finally, the giant's shoulders sagged, and he told Silas the name of a bar. Silas was halfway down the street before the priest had finished rattling off the address.

* * *

"I'm looking for Saige."

The scrawny man at the bar looked up at him for a moment, unperturbed, before returning his attention to the shot glass in his hand. "No idea who yer talkin' 'bout."

"Saige?" Silas tried again. "She's this tall," he gestured with his hand, "Albino?"

The man continued to polish the glass. "I'm tellin' ya, mate, I've got no clue who the hell yer talkin' 'bout. Ain't no one here named Saige." He set down the glass and picked up another one, nodding to the empty bar, "Most folks _leave _after the bar closes. Get me?"

The monk grit his teeth. "Anastasia? Nastya?"

Something flashed in the man's eyes, but he didn't tear his gaze from the glass he was drying. "Nope, not a one. Look, mate, if it's girls yer lookin' for, there's a place down the street."

"Why you _presumptuous _little—" Silas hissed, but swallowed his words as something occurred to him. "What about Amora? Is there someone named Amora staying here?"

Silence, and then the clink of glass being set down on the marble counter-top. The man leaned forward. "Yer name doesn't happen to be _Silas_, does it, mate?"

Silas nodded. "It does."

The man reared back, his hand slipping under the counter and his eyes flicking to the large man by the door. "Then I'll be askin' ya to leave."

"What? But I—"

Boards creaked behind him, and Silas knew the bouncer at the door had come up behind him. The bartender smirked and mock-whispered, "Mate, we can do this the hard way or the easy way. Which'd ya prefer, guv?"

Silas's mind raced—goddamned Brits. He could barely understand a word he'd said, but the meaning was clear enough. He sighed and leaned forward, an arm resting on the bar. "I hadn't wanted to do this." The bouncer cracked his knuckles, and Silas saw a glint of metal under the bar and he spoke quickly. "My name is Sergeant Thomas Michaelson, and I'm with Scotland Yard."

Silence reigned, and then the bartender frowned. "Thomas Michaelson, ya said?"

Silas shrugged nonchalantly, his heart pounding against his ribs. "My folks weren't the creative sort."

"Where ya from, Sarge Michaelson?"

"France."

A rumbling voice from behind him chuckled. "Didn't know they let immigrants in the Yard, did you, Mitch?"

The bartender—Mitch—shrugged and smirked. "Guess not, Lenny. So tell me, Sarge, whatcha doin' askin' 'round for Amora? She tells me that yer name is Silas, and yer a wanted criminal."

The monk laughed. "I suppose you believe anything the pretty little bird tells you, right?" He paused and leaned further across the bar. "Did she also tell you, _mate_, that she's wanted in four countries for murder, grand theft auto, withholding valuable information and arson?"

Mitch swallowed thickly. "M-Murder?"

"That's right," Silas continued smoothly, pleased with the response, "Offed her father in cold blood. Tried to kill a priest, too, as a matter of fact. But no one can prove anything yet." He scowled, running a hand through his hair, irritated, "Which is why I've been leading a deep cover investigation on the bitch and her circle for a few months now. I guess she's caught onto me or summat, because she ran." He sighed, spreading his palms flat on the counter. "And so now I'm here at this," a pause, "lovely establishment to pick her up."

A thick hand planted itself on his shoulder, and Silas resisted the old urge to turn and slam his fist into Lenny's nose. "No offense, Sarge, but you aren't exactly convincing us to rat out dear Amora. I mean, why should we help our dear friends at the Yard?"

Mitch arched an eyebrow and Silas let a mischievous smile creep across his lips. "My friends, at this very moment a dangerous criminal is taking up residence on your property." He leaned further over the bar, whispering conspiratorially. "And knowledgeably harboring a criminal is against the law as well."

There was a long pause as Mitch and Lenny exchanged glances. "Up the stairs, two doors to the right. Have a nice day, officer."

Silas grinned. "I plan to."

* * *

_Review, lovelies!_

Or Kit will tear your throat out, or something!

_-tsk- Cruel, Vi!_

_Kit &_ Violet


	33. Chapter 33

_First off, I'm sorry for getting all your hopes up by thinking this is a new chapter. I just really wanted to apologize for my and Vi's absence. Early graduation, my nominations, Vi's internship and my art have unfortunately taken precedence in our lives at the moment, and writing is either impossible to find time for, or too tiring to contemplate. In case you haven't noticed, this story is being rewritten. I just wanted to say that the rewrite has nothing to do with the plot, but more with the writing style and minor details that are superficial. (Check me out with all my big words.) What I'm thinking of doing is just finishing the story, and then I'll complete the rewrite on my own time._

_I can't promise that we'll start this week, or even this month, but we will finish the story very soon. For those of you new to the story, I'm sorry for the way it looks with some of the chapters rewritten and some not. As for the rest of you that have put up with our nonsense and kept up with this story over the years (YEARS, can you imagine?), I want to thank you for being so merciful. XD _

_Updates soon,_

_Kit_

_P.S. When we start to post the new chapters, we might delete this and the previous note. I don't know if people who have this story on their alerts are notified about that, so just keep an eye out._


	34. Chapter 34

_As promised, new chapter. It's good to be back._

**_Warnings/Disclaimers: All the usual._ **

* * *

The stairs were rickety and _loud_. A junkie was curled up in a corner of the hallway, and when he spotted Silas, he shriekedat the top of his lungs, jumped up, and shoved past Silas down the stairs, slamming the albino's shoulder into an ancient, empty picture frame that shattered.

So much for the element of surprise.

Abandoning the silence, Silas stomped up the last two stairs and stormed past the first door. His boot connected with the doorknob of the second one, and the entire frame shaking as the door went flying off its hinges.

Metal-working tools littered the floor in a haphazard circle around Saige. When she spotted him, her hands flew down from where they were around her neck, and for a moment Silas panicked until he realized the red tint on her fingers was rust, not blood.

"Saige." Silas took a step forward—and almost dislocated his shoulder as a screwdriver buried itself into the thick leather of his coat sleeve and pinned his wrist to the wall. The girl was already up on the shoddy box that counted as a dresser, catapulting out the window. Swearing, Silas jerked his arms out of the coat and followed her.

He hit the ground hard, bending his knees to absorb the shock of the fall; the building was taller than he'd thought. He barely caught a glimpse of black—she dyed it black now? He hadn't even noticed!—hair turning the corner out of the alley and onto the street. Ignoring the protest in his knees, Silas started after her.

London's streets melded into a blur as Silas ran, keeping an eye on the flash of black that seemed to be hundreds of meters ahead of him. She led him through a street fair, trolley tracks, the subway, two parks and a wharf, and Silas had to stop three times to catch his breath. His just-healed bullet wounds ached, and his head spun as his lungs sucked in far too much oxygen.

"Stop running!" he shouted, bruised lungs protesting, before forcing himself back into motion as passerby turned to look at him. "Saige, _stop, _please!"

The black shape ahead of him skidded to a stop, and Saige calmly walked into an alley. She was briefly illuminated by a streetlight as she walked under it, and Silas finally noticed that it was getting dark. His pulse pounding in his ears, he slowed to a walk and cut into the alley, his coat swirling behind him in a way that made him think of noir heroes.

Saige was leaning against one of the alley walls, eyes on the smoke curling from one of the chimneys. She looked _awful_—gaunt and pale under her self-tanner. Her hair, hastily tied back, was escaping its bonds after their mad chase. Her clothes looked like she'd been sleeping in them for years. Suddenly, rage flooded Silas's veins, thick and poisonous—_she could've been _safe_, she could've been _healthy_, she could've had _help_, but she abandoned us all and _left_ and_—before he could stop himself, his fingers were around her wrists in a bruising grip and he was flattening her against the wall. "Finally. I've got you."

She smirked.

And then she kissed him.

It was rough and harsh and awkward and desperate, because Silas hadn't really _kissed _before, and one moment Saige was smirking at him from where he had her pinned and the next she was everywhere—her hands around his neck, her chest pressed against his, the smell of cheap beer and cigarette smoke that surrounded her; picked up from the bars she had been hiding in. At first their lips were closed and then suddenly they were open and her tongue was winding around his and Silas could barely keep up because this was new and she was new and the whole thing was just so—

And then it was over and Saige had pulled back, her breath coming in harsh gasps. Her hands had slipped from his shoulders and were pressed against his chest, fisting the soft material of his shirt. Silas's head was spinning. He was gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, and he felt a strange sort of satisfaction knowing that he could finally put his mark on the woman that had been no more solid than a ghost these past few months.

Then, cold steel pressed against his stomach.

Silas's eyes flicked down to take in the knife, and then back to Saige. Her head was bowed, her face hidden—she was crying. "Please don't make me do this."

"Then don't." His answer was startlingly calm.

"Silas, you know I have to. Please. He's going to get Noah. I _can't _let him have Noah."

"So let me help you," Silas tried, "We can get him back."

Saige shook her head. "I can't let you. I'm going to kill him—you can't go back to killing people."

"I'd kill for you."

Her head shot, the light from the nearby lamppost catching the tear streaks on her face. She shook her head frantically. "Don't say that. Please, please don't say that."

Silas's hands slid up to her shoulders and gripped tightly. "_I would kill for you._ I would kill anyone for you, and I would never feel guilty for it or look back."

_"Shut up!" _Her cry echoed in the narrow alley. "Don't say that! You don't mean it!"

"Why can't you, for once in your life, let someone else save the day?" Silas shouted, his eyes flashing with rage. "Why don't you ever let anyone protect you?"

"Because," she screamed back, "The last person that promised to protect me ended up with a bullet in his face!" She sucked in a deep breath, her body trembling and her fists clenched at her sides. "I don't need anyone, and I never want to make anyone go through that. I'm perfectly fine on my own."

"I want to help you!"

And suddenly, she changed tactics. Saige scowled. "I don't need your help. Why the hell would I want help from _you_? I've been saving you since day one!"

"You said I saved your life," he reminded her.

She scoffed. "As if I couldn't handle my father! Why the hell are you following me like a lost dog, anyway? Run back to Aringarosa!"

Hurtful things—mean, cruel, vile and underhanded things—spewed out of her mouth, and every time she spoke anew Silas had to remind himself that it was all an act. For every harsh word she spoke, Silas could see that she didn't mean a syllable of it. He waited for her to finish. "You said you loved me."

"Fuck you!" she cried, her voice echoing through the alley, "I lied! Get it through your thick skull, Silas, _I don't want you here_! The only reason I even looked twice at you is because you look like him! You look like Sylas, and that's all I've ever thought of you! I'm a horrible, horrible person—a selfish, cruel, murdering bitch, okay? I don't love you, but I was willing to say it to get what I wanted out of you. I only ever saved you because you looked like a dead guy I once had the hots for and I figured I could use a new fuck-buddy! That's _it_!"

"If you really thought that, then you would run me through," Silas told her calmly, "You wouldn't be standing here yelling."

Saige looked down at the knife in her hand, and for one horrible, terrifying moment Silas wondered if she was really as grounded in the concept of 'them' as he was, but before either one of them could move, a voice shouted from the front of the alley, "Oy! Is everything alright back there, mate?"

Startled, Silas turned. Two men stood at the mouth of the alley, silhouetted by the lamp-light. Silas cursed his luck. "Yeah. Everything is fine."

One of them frowned, stepping into the alley, his friend following. "Things don't look fine." He looked closely at Saige. "She's crying. Did this bloke make you cry?"

"Allergies."

Neither one of the men looked convinced, and Silas realized that's what she wanted. "I promise you two, nothing is wrong," he tried to assure them.

The other man shook his head, advancing slowly. "That ain't what it looks like." His eyes wandered down to where Silas was still gripping Saige's hips. "Looks like you're squeezing the lady a bit hard." There was steel in his voice now. "You might want to let go."

Slowly, Silas pulled his hands back and showed them to the men, who quickly stepped between him and Saige, pressing the monk into the wall. One of them turned to face him but spoke to Saige. "Honey, why don't you go find a phone while Hank and I have a chat with your friend."

"You two are real gentlemen. I had hoped it wouldn't come to this."

Hank looked back at her, exchanging a glance with his pal. "What're you talking about?"

Saige looked at Silas as she spoke to them. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but you don't understand. Please step back, because I don't want to hurt you."

Hank put a hand on her shoulder, confused. "Hurt us? Don and I are just trying to help!"

Saige put a hand on Hank's forearm, and Silas flinched. Don shot him a warning look. The girl continued, her eyes never leaving Silas, "And I think that's wonderful. I hope this doesn't put you off helping people in distress. There are few people like you in this world. It makes me sorry for this."

Hank's mouth opened, but before he could say anything, Saige swung her fist down on his elbow, bending it and pitching him forward into her raised knee. Don stepped away from Silas as Hank's nose started gushing blood, but Saige was already kicking his knees out from under him. She was out of the alley before either man dropped to the ground.

* * *

_Jaysus. It only took 30-odd chapters for them to make the fuck out. Hopefully there shall be more next week. Pray to the homework gods for me and Vi! _

_Also, reviews would be lovely._

_Kit_


End file.
